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A MODERN EXODUS 


BY 


FAYE HUNTINGTON 

1 . 


Author of 
Those Boys 

Echoing and Re-echoing 
Mrs. Deane’s Way 
and others 



r 



“ We are journeying unto the 
will give it you." 


lace of which the Lord said , / 


BOSTON 

D LOTHROP COMPANY 

WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD 




Copyright, 1890, 

BY 

D. Lothrop Company. 




CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

CALLED ....... I 

CHAPTER II. 

CHANGES . 9 

CHAPTER III. 

FACING THINGS . . . s t 21 

CHAPTER IV. 

AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS . . 33 

CHAPTER V. 

REACHING OUT ..... 54 

CHAPTER VI. 

“OLD GOLD ” . . . . . , 63 

iii 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A NEW DEPARTURE . . . . 75 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE ... 89 

CHAPTER IX. 

STEPHEN A CUMBERER .... 99 

CHAPTER X. 

John’s marah ..... 106 

CHAPTER XI. 

PLAIN SPEAKING . . . . . 120 

CHAPTER XII. 

A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE I30 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE TALKING MULTITUDE . . . 1 39 

CHAPTER XIV. 

SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? . . . 1 52 

CHAPTER XV. 

DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE . . 1 65 


CONTENTS. V 

CHAPTER XVI. 

ROYAL BOUNTY . . . . . I 80 

CHAPTER XVII. 

OUTGROWING THINGS .... I92 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A MINORITY REPORT .... 205 

CHAPTER XIX. 

PRAYER 216 

CHAPTER XX. 

HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING . . . 2 28 

CHAPTER XXI. 

DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK .... 242 

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON . . . 256 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW . . 272 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A boy’s IDEA OF BUSINESS . . . 284 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

MEMORIAL STONES ..... 3OI 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

JERICHO . . . . . . . 314 

CHAPTER XXVII. 


COL. PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE 


330 


A MODERN EXODUS 


CHAPTER I. 


CALLED. 


“And when the Lord s3w that he turned aside to see, God 
called unto him.” 

HE real name of the Moses who was the 



-L leader in this Modern Exodus was John 
Heckman, and by that name I shall speak of him 
as I write out this record of his life — an unevent- 
ful life, as we look at lives. The Heckmans were 
happy and prosperous when this young fellow 
first made his appearance in the household, a fat, 
black-eyed baby. He ate and slept, smiled and 
cooed, like other babies. Later, he grew mis- 
chievous and wayward. As more years went by, 
he ran upon errands and went to school, joined in 
the coasting and snow-balling frolics, and came 


2 


CALLED. 


home with bruised head and frosted ears. In 
summer he picked berries in the pasture and went 
fishing ; in short, up to his tenth year he lived a 
happy, careless young life, with little to distin- 
guish him from the average country boy. 

About that time a shadow rested upon the 
home. At first it seemed but a passing cloud, but 
instead of dispersing it grew heavier and denser, 
and by and by culminated in the darkness of 
death. 

They were sitting together in the twilight of a 
dark November day, the widow and the fatherless, 
and the friends who had come to them in the 
hour of their great sorrow. They had not been 
saying much. The brothers and sisters would go 
away in the morning, and the broken family 
would take up their burden of living, and it 
seemed to the bereaved wife that now there could 
never be any living that would not be a burden. 

Mr. John Heckman sat for some time with an 
arm thrown about his namesake nephew. He 
had not joined at all in the low and broken con- 
versation that went on among the others of the 
group, but seemed lost in thought. Presently he 
roused himself and said — 

“I think, Abbie, that, if you are willing, I will 
take John, here, home with me for a time. It 
will be one less for you to care for, and I see no 
other way to help you. I think Lewis” — here 


CALLED. 


3 


the strong man faltered for an instant, but he 
quickly recovered himself and went on — “Lewis 
has made very wise plans for your future ; but at 
best you will have your hands full, and as you will 
hardly like to let your one girl go away from you, 
the best I can do is to take John.” 

After some discussion it was settled that John 
was to go with his uncle for a few months — 
“Until I see my way a little clearer,” the mother 
said, adding, “ I cannot think of giving up my boy 
altogether.” And the kind-hearted, wise brother 
replied — 

“Certainly not. You shall have him back 
whenever you say the word. And, sister Abbie, 
be assured that, as long as he remains with us, 
he will have the same care and advantages that 
my own son would have.” 

The months lengthened into years, and still 
John did not come home. There never came a 
time when Mrs. Heckman saw her way clearer — 
rather, her way grew more and more obscured — 
and there never came a time when she felt that it 
would be better for John to come back to her, 
though her heart was breaking with the longing 
for this child, the one whom everybody said was 
“so like his father.” Wearily she lived on until 
six years had gone by. Once, a year or two after 
John left home, she wrote, urging a visit. His 
uncle replied — 


4 


CALLED. 


Dear Sister Abbie: 

If you have not fully determined to take John from us this . 
year — and I hope you will not — we think it better for you to 
come here. It will do you good to get away from the old 
place; and besides, I cannot very well leave just now to go 
with John, so I enclose a check for your traveling expenses. 


During the visit Mr. Heckman drew enough 
from the sad-faced woman for him to understand 
that things were not going on as well as could be 
wished, and he made up his mind that, if possible, 
he would keep John. However, he said very little 
about it. He suggested that, as the school 
advantages in their little town were unusually fine 
for a place of its size, it might be as well to let 
John stay on for a year or two, at least, adding — 
“ If the boy should decide that he would like to 
take a full course, I shall stand ready to help him ; 
but that is a matter to discuss later.” Then the 
mother went back to her home, thankful in her 
heart that one boy was doing well. And so, as I 
have said, the years went on until John was 
nearly sixteen. He had grown up thoughtful for 
his years, perhaps more thoughtful than boys of 
his age usually are. 

With this bit of introduction, I come now to 
the point where my story more properly begins. 

A bright June morning, and John Heckman sit- 
ting in his uncle’s pew in the village church, wait- 
ing for the message the preacher might bring to 


CALLED. 


5 


him ; and, as I think of him thus, there comes to 
me a sentence from the beginning of that other 
story lived so long ago — “And when the Lord 
saw that he turned aside to see, God called unto 
him.” It was a bright worshiping-place. The 
green upon which the building stood was elevated 
a little above the level of the street, and a stone 
terrace added to the neat appearance of the sur- 
roundings. Stone steps led up from the sidewalk, 
and gravel walks followed graceful curves to the 
entrance of the church. The lawn was shaded 
by elms and maples, and dotted with evergreens. 
Inside, through the mullioned stained-glass win- 
dows, the sunlight streamed in over a mossy car- 
pet and comfortably upholstered pews. Over the 
pulpit or platform, upon the wall, in illuminated 
text, were the words, “ Enter into his gates with 
thanksgiving and into his courts with praise.” 
After all, I cannot describe that church. There 
were certain nameless characteristics, things felt 
rather than seen. Perhaps it was that the people 
loved the place, that they came with reverence, 
and that upon the faces of many who were accus- 
tomed to worship within the sacred walls there 
rested the peace that passeth understanding ; that 
the glory within so illumined the countenance 
that of them it might be said, “Their faces shone, 
for they had been with God.” It may be that in 
an especial manner the Holy Spirit rested upon 


6 


CALLED. 


that congregation. I cannot think that it was 
just the beauty of the frescoes or of the tinted 
glass, the perfume of the flowers or the sweet 
tones of the organ, that made the difference 
between that church and many others. It may 
be that the sweet Christian spirit of the worship- 
ing congregation had much to do with the pecul- 
iar attraction of the place ; and again, it may be 
that the preacher had been dwelling upon the 
mount so that his face shone with a heavenly 
radiance. I know not why it was, that, with its 
simple and inexpensive adornings, it seemed so 
peculiarly the temple of the Most High. 

I have wondered what might have been in the 
mind of that pastor as, in the privacy of his study, 
he thought out that sermon. I can fancy him fit- 
ting it to the needs of his people, hoping and 
praying that by the words he should be given to 
speak to them, some might be led to take up new 
duties, enter upon untried work. Perhaps he 
thought of this one as being led to speak to the 
stranger, that one taking up prayer-meeting duty, 
another giving himself to Sunday School or mis- 
sion work; and, perhaps, after all his thought and 
fitting, he prayed that the Lord would take his 
words and fill them with His Spirit, and let them 
not fall to the ground, but rather that they might 
reach some heart with help, encouragement or 
inspiration, as might be the special need. It may 


CALLED. 


7 


be that the preacher never saw in his own parish 
the least fruit of that morning’s seed-sowing. Yet 
the fruit was rich and abundant. 

The words of the text were, “What is that in 
thine hand ? And he said, A rod.” The thought 
of the sermon was that God can make the single 
and simple instrument that we hold in our loose 
grasp an effective weapon for His service, and 
that we may not hold back from service because 
of weakness or inefficiency. John Heckman, list- 
ening, felt a thrill as if the Lord had called him 
to an especial work. And yet, as he thought it 
over after church, he did not understand what he 
felt sure had been the voice of his Master. There 
was nothing in his life or in his surroundings to 
call for any unusual effort or service. He had 
been accustomed to take his part in the young 
people’s prayer-meeting; he had for some months 
been teaching a class in the primary department 
of the Sunday School. It was none of these 
duties to which God seemed to be calling him. 
He wondered if it could be possible that God 
meant him to be a minister. 

Long he thought and wondered what it meant, 
this strong impression that service of a sort differ- 
ent from any of his own planning was waiting for 
him somewhere. At length he knelt, and the 
burden of his prayer was — “Here, Lord, am I. 
Though I hold but a rod, thou canst make it a 


8 


CALLED. 


power, and I am waiting to be shown what it is 
that thou hast for me to do.” And often in the 
days that followed closely upon this solemn hour 
of consecration he prayed this prayer for direction. 

He had not long to wait. One morning they 
sat together at the breakfast table, knelt together 
at the family altar, and went their several ways, 
little thinking that it was the last time. At noon 
John stood beside the lifeless body of the one who 
had been as a father to him for nearly six years. 
So unexpectedly had the summons come to the 
strong man. 


CHANGES. 


9 


CHAPTER II. 

CHANGES. 


“Come now, therefore, and I will send thee.” 


P LANS for the ordering of the changed house- 
hold matured rapidly. John’s uncle had 
always meant to provide for the boy who had been 
like a son to him ; but, as is too often the case, had 
neglected to make the provision. Though Mrs. 
John Heckman was fond of her husband’s nephew, 
she did not feel a responsibility for his future; 
indeed, the burden of caring for herself and her one 
daughter was almost more than she could bear. 
John was now old enough to look out for himself, 
and, as she decided to close the house and go to 
live with her parents, she considered her duty 
done when she had put John’s wardrobe in order, 
furnished him with an entire winter outfit, pur- 
chased his ticket to his old home, and given him, 
at parting, a draft for one hundred dollars. She 


IO 


CHANGES. 


carefully packed his trunk, which was a large one 
that had been her husband’s, putting in books 
pfrom the library, and adding gifts for the mem- 
bers of the family at home, and then she 
said — 

“John, do you think your sister would care for 
some of my dresses to make over? You know I 
shall never wear them now, and Ella is too young 
to make it worth while to keep them or cut them 
over for her. I could put in my brown cashmere 
and that summer silk you like so much ; and 
there’s that heavy wine-colored one — she might 
as well have that, too. I think your uncle would 
like to have me send them.” 

“Thank you, Auntie; I am sure you are very 
kind, and I am afraid that new dresses are scarce 
with mother and Beth nowadays. I am certain 
that things are not going well at home. I do not 
understand about it, but I begin to think that 
there will be work for me there.” 

“I know your uncle was troubled about them; 
he said he could not understand Joe’s going away, 
and why your mother said so little about him in 
her letters.” 

“She seldom mentions him,” said John, “and I 
don’t know what to think.” 

“Well, you know that Mr. Hummel will give you 
a place if you conclude to come back. I sometimes 
think you would do better to stay here, though I 


CHANGES. 


II 


think you are right to go and see how they are 
getting along. But if you come back you will 
find friends.” 

“ It seems almost ungrateful to refuse such a 
good offer as Mr. Hummel has made me; but I 
am sure it is right to go to my mother, and it is 
doubtful if I come back right away.” 

And so it came about that, one autumn day, 
John Heckman, toiling up the long road that led 
from the station to West Hill, came in sight of his 
old home. Surely this was the place, yet could it 
be? Was that the home he had left ? It did not 
look as he remembered it. The Heckman home- 
stead had been the typical farm-house of fifty 
years ago, built by Grandfather Heckman to last. 
This is what the boy expected to find — a large 
house, painted white, green blinds, and a porch 
over the front door ; the yard and garden shut in 
by a picket fence painted white, with a brown 
base-board ; a gravel walk leading up to the 
front door; the garden neatly kept, and the 
ripening vegetables almost ready for the gather- 
ing. The barns, as he remembered them, were 
painted red, with white trimmings ; the horses in 
the stables were sleek and fat ; and, to fill out the 
picture which he had carried in his memory, the 
farm fences should be in good order. The scene 
before him was very different, yet he quickened 
his steps as he thought of his mother waiting to 


12 


CHANGES. 


greet him. But here, too, was a change and a 
disappointment. Was this worn and weary-look- 
ing woman, with a careless air about her dress, 
the bright, trim mother, whose memory had 
always been associated with the pleasant home of 
his childhood? It was his mother, surely. He 
could never mistake the tender clasp and loving 
smile, sad though it might be. And the tall girl 
beside her — could that be Beth, his little sister? 
You may smile, but the thought that came into 
John’s mind, as he looked at her in her faded 
calico dress, was of those handsome gowns that 
Aunt Fannie had put into his trunk to be made 
over for Beth. Presently his brother Stephen 
appeared; his greeting was cordial, but off-hand 
and not at all affectionate. 

“Why didn’t you let us know when you were 
coming? We would have had out the coach and 
four-in-hand. Where is your baggage, or did they 
pack you off without any ? ” 

“My trunk is at the station,” replied John; “I 
did not know whether it would be convenient ” — 

“For us to keep you over night?” said Ste- 
phen, laughing. 

“Not just that; but whether I ought to have 
hired some one to bring it out, or whether you 
could go after it.” 

“What’s to hinder your going yourself?” asked 
Stephen. 


CHANGES. 


13 


“You can answer that question easier than I,” 
replied John. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if I could. I suppose I do 
know the ins and outs of things here better than 
you do,” and Stephen laughed bitterly, as John 
thought, while he wondered at his mood. 

Indoors the changes seemed even more marked 
and more painful than those he had noticed out- 
side The pretty parlor, which he remembered 
as always carefully kept, was now dismantled and 
shabby, while the sleeping-rooms were more dis- 
mal and forlorn than he could have imagined it 
possible for them to be. 

“You see,” said his mother, apologetically, as 
John went over the house in his eagerness to 
re-visit all the familiar nooks, “things will wear 
out, and we have not had money to buy new 
furniture.” 

“But I don’t understand. Aunt Fannie has 
never had any new furniture since I went there, 
and hers lasted.” 

“You must remember that Aunt Fannie had 
only you, and one boy alone will not use up 
things so fast as three or four. You see, I 
wanted the boys to have a good time, and I 
always encouraged their bringing their friends 
home with them, and they get pretty wild some- 
times, and then tables and chairs suffer.” 

“I see,” said John. He had not been at home 


14 


CHANGES. 


three hours ; yet he already saw things that 
shocked and grieved him. He was sitting with 
his mother and Beth after supper, when, missing 
Stephen, he asked — “Where is Stephen? I 
ought to have helped him with his work. I did 
not think of it.” 

“Oh, he was through work some time ago; he 
has probably gone over to the store. I presume 
he thought we would not miss him ; he knew I 
would have a great many questions to ask.” And 
the mother tried to smile as she made this 
explanation. 

“Where is the store you speak of?” asked 
John. 

“ At the corner ; it was opened about five years 
ago ; it is very convenient for the people around 
here.” 

“Yes, it is convenient; both as a store and as a 
lounging place! Especially the latter!” It was 
Beth who spoke, almost fiercely. 

John turned to look at her. She was a pretty 
girl, with dark hair and eyes — well, her eyes were 
wonderful — large and dark and deep; when she 
was still, they had a far-away, dreamy look; but 
Frank, the youngest Heckman, described her 
varying mood when he said — “As soon as Beth 
brings her eyes back, she takes in the whole of 
it!” As John looked at his sister closely, he 
observed her dissatisfied expression. The scorn 


CHANGES. 


15 


in her tone when she spoke of Stephen and other 
young people of the neighborhood, had already 
caught his attention. Her dress was neat, though 
very shabby ; her hair in perfect order, and her 
hands shapely, though they showed some work- 
stains. John’s conclusion was, that “mother and 
Beth must some way have things brightened up 
for them.” 

Little by little he found out, as the days went 
by, that matters were even worse than his uncle 
had suspected. Evidently very little work was 
done on the farm, and everything seemed running 
down. 

“Do you hear from Joe often?” he asked, that 
first evening. 

“ Not very often ; the last time he wrote he was 
in Nebraska.” And then the mother made haste 
to introduce another topic ; at least, so it seemed 
to John. 

“What became of the gray team father used to 
have ? ” he asked, one day, as Stephen drove 
through the yard with what seemed to this boy, 
used to better things, the poorest specimens of 
horse-flesh he had ever seen. 

“Oh,” replied Stephen, as John sprang up 
beside him on the rickety buckboard, “the nigh 
horse broke his leg in the woods. Joe was get- 
ting out wood, and he never would go slow, and I 
suppose he was reckless or careless ; any way, we 


CHANGES. 


1 6 

had to kill the horse, and then the other went 
lame ; but you couldn’t expect horses to last for- 
ever, could you?” 

“No, of course not; but I remember the grays 
were only six years old ; they wouldn’t have been 
old horses now.” 

“Well! You must have had a good memory 
for a youngster, to have remembered the age of a 
span of horses all these years ! More likely they 
were sixteen ! ” 

“No, indeed; you ask mother if I am not 
right.” 

“What difference does it make whether or not 
you are right ? The horses went the way of all 
horses long ago, and now we have a team that 
nobody can kill. They are not beauties ; but 
they are tough, and that is the main point when 
you want them for wear.” And Stephen laughed 
that hard, bitter laugh, that John was learning to 
dread. 

It seemed to this new-comer that Stephen was 
disappointing at every new view he had of his 
character. The first Sabbath after he came 
home, as they sat at breakfast, Stephen said — 
“Well, John, how will you spend the day? Will 
you go with me ? ” 

Mrs. Heckman looked up quickly, and opened 
her lips as if about to speak ; then, recollecting her- 
self, she settled back in her chair with a little sigh. 


CHANGES. 


1 7 


John replied — “That depends upon where you 
are going. I expect to go to church, of course.” 

“ So that’s the kind you are ! Well, I expected 
it ; I knew it, in fact, when I saw that Bible lying 
on your stand.” 

“Why, don’t you go to church 
“Not much! Oh, I go once in a while when I 
have nothing better on hand; just often enough 
to keep my hand in — oh, I mean my foot in. 
Just to keep up with the times, you know; I 
don’t want to be quite in heathen ignorance; but 
I do not take much stock in such matters.” 

“ What do you do Sundays ? ” 

“Oh, hang round. To-day, I’m going nutting.” 
“Going where?” asked John, in a tone that 
expressed his amazement. 

“ Have you suddenly lost your hearing ? I said 
I was going nutting. Jack Swan asked me to 
ride over to Collins’ grove with him. He said I 
might ask you, but I told him I guessed you were 
one of the other sort. He seemed to think it 
might be a good thing on the whole to have one 
such in the neighborhood; I told him it might do 
very well for the neighborhood, but having one in 
the family might make it uncomfortable for the 
rest.” Stephen spun off these reckless sentences 
between sips of coffee, apparently well pleased at 
John’s evident distress. “Now,” he continued, 
“don’t work yourself up for a martyr. You just 


8 


CHANGES. 


let me and my ways alone, and I will let you and 
your religion alone. I laid a dime novel down 
beside your Bible last night, but I asked the 
Bible’s permission first. You see I am disposed 
to be perfectly fair.” 

“Beth,” said John, after breakfast, “are you a 
good walker ? ” 

“First-rate! Why?” 

“Will you go to church with me? ” 

“ Pity sakes, no ! I haven’t a thing fit to wear ; 
and if I had, I shouldn’t know how to act in 
church, it is so long since I have been.” 

And so John went alone. He did not mind the 
walk of three miles to the village ; but, if the 
contrast between the home he had left and the 
one to which he had come was saddening, he was 
scarcely less surprised and grieved as he com- 
pared the church in which he had worshiped only 
a week ago with this one into which he slipped so 
quietly that morning. The location was opposite 
the village hotel ; and, as no local option wave or 
prohibitory measure or moral suasion millennium 
had as yet reached the town, this was far from 
being a quiet or desirable place in which to wor- 
ship the Lord. There was not even a bit of 
green in front of the church ; the steps came 
down to the broken plank sidewalk ; the building 
itself had once been painted, but in the long con- 
flict with the elements, the elements had been 


CHANGES. 


19 


victorious, and only here and there little streaks 
and patches of paint remained to tell the story ; 
the vestibule was dark and dingy; the audience- 
room uncarpeted and dusty ; the October sun 
streamed in through windows that were neither of 
stained glass, nor of the best quality of unstained ; 
there were neither shutters nor curtains to break 
the glare ; some time, away back in the dim past, 
the walls and ceiling had been whitewashed, but 
were now smoky and flaky ; everything else was 
in keeping. There were no ushers, and John 
slipped into a seat, lonely and homesick. He 
bowed his head, and actually the boy — this brave, 
strong-hearted boy — cried. Everything every- 
where was turning out so different from his antic- 
ipations. He had been somewhat prepared for 
changes, but not such changes as he found. But 
I believe the boy thought that all churches were 
alike, and that the one he had left was the type. 
The tumult of his emotions almost overcame him. 
Could he endure the life that stretched out before 
him ? Why had he not remained in the old 
neighborhood where were opportunities to earn 
his own living, and where homes had been opened 
to him? Would it not be better to go back now? 
There he had his work in the Sunday School ; 
there were the boys of his set with whom he 
studied and worked and talked, who thought as he 
did, and who would be glad to have him back. 


20 


CHANGES. 


Yes, he would go back. True, there was work 
here, but a stronger arm than his was needed ; 
how foolish he had been to imagine he could do 
anything; and sadly he asked himself — “Who 
am I that I should think to do this thing ? ” And 
yet, while he thus doubted and questioned, he 
seemed to hear that voice again, saying — “Cer- 
tainly I will be with thee,” and — “Thou shalt 
take this rod in thine hand.” When the invoca- 
tion ended, he, too, lifted his head, strengthened 
and comforted ; he could even join in the hymn. 

There was one thing that John Heckman could 
do — he could sing. And so unaccustomed were 
they in that forlorn, dingy church to hearing such 
a voice that many turned to look, and John be- 
came aware that he was attracting attention. 

Thinking it over afterwards, John knew that 
there was nothing helpful or uplifting in the 
words or the manner of the minister ; but he had 
been taught both by his uncle and by his pastor 
that we do not go to church mainly to hear the 
sermon, but that our chief thought should be of 
the worship, and that our expectation should be 
of meeting our Lord; and John felt that he had 
met Him, almost as if he had stood face to face 
with his Leader. 


FACING THINGS. 


21 


CHAPTER III. 

FACING THINGS. 


“ He went out unto his brethren, and looked on their 
burdens.” 

H OW is it, mother, that you do not go to 
church ? You used to go.” 

“Yes, we always went when your father lived. 
But things are not as they used to be, and I have 
not been in so long that I have become accus- 
tomed to staying at home. Stephen thinks the 
horses work so hard through the week that they 
ought to rest Sundays.” 

“Yes,” said Beth; “but you will observe that 
if Steve wants to go anywhere, he will take out 
the horses quick enough.” 

“But, Beth, you know we haven’t had any 
buggy for the last year.” 

“ I guess I do know that ! ” Beth’s tone was 
almost fierce. “We haven’t had anything to ride 
in since Steve raced horses with Jack Swan, and 


22 


FACING THINGS. 


Jack ran into our buggy and broke it all to smash. 
Then Steve got an old sulky that he rides around 
in, but the rest of us can stay at home.” 

John had been at home two or three weeks 
when this conversation took place. He had not 
asked many questions, but had quietly watched 
the run of things, and he began to feel that it 
was time to get at the bottom of the difficulties 
that seemed to hedge the family in on all sides. 
After Beth’s last remark he was still a little 
while; then he asked — “Mother, how is it that 
with this farm, which, I suppose, is an excellent 
one, you have such hard times to get along?” 

Mrs. Heckman hesitated. There were things 
which she felt she could not tell this boy ; there 
were some things which she would keep from 
him if she could. Joe and Stephen should never 
have it to say that their mother had turned against 
them. Still, she knew that it was impossible to 
keep the true state of their affairs from John. 
Even if he asked no questions, he could not help 
seeing that the family had been having hard times. 
He waited now for an answer, and she said, slow- 
ly — “ Well, you know it has been pretty hard times 
everywhere, and we have had bad luck. First, we 
lost the horses and had to run in debt for another 
team, and we have had to borrow money until we 
are so deep in debt that I do not know that we 
shall ever get out. It takes about all we can 


FACING THINGS. 23 

raise to pay the interest, and we don’t even keep 
that up very regularly.” 

“I see. Mother, who owns the farm?” 

“It was left to me while I live.” 

“Then it cannot be sold?” 

“No. If that had been possible, it would 
have been sold long ago. The boys have always 
felt very badly about this provision in your 
father’s will. They both thought it would have 
been much better to have sold the farm and 
bought a house in the village. Then they could 
have engaged in some business they liked better 
than farming.” 

“I am glad it cannot be sold,” said John, 
emphatically. “You will always have a home, 
come what will.” 

“Unless it tumbles down about my head,” 
replied the mother, sadly. 

Presently John asked another question. He 
was fast making up his mind to face the worst, 
and to face it with a view to overcoming. 

“ Mother, how much is the debt ? ” 

Again the mother hesitated. It was hard to 
speak of their affairs. She could see, through 
John’s reserve of all criticism upon the home 
management, that he was clear-headed enough 
to know that there had been sad mistakes. But 
as he waited respectfully for whatever informa- 
tion she chose to give him, she said to herself 


24 


FACING THINGS. 


that he had a right to know, and that he would 
find out sometime, and that she might as well be 
frank with him. 

“I suppose,” she said, in a hopeless tone, 
“that, with the interest due, it must amount to 
as much as a thousand dollars.” 

John made no sort of reply; he was stunned. 
How could it be possible that in six years his 
mother and the boys had let things run behind 
so as to get a thousand dollars in debt ? 

However, as time passed, he found out that the 
debt was not the worst thing he had to face. 
Though he was a quick-witted boy, it was some 
ime before he took in the situation, and, as he 
. aw that his questions disturbed his mother, he 
refrained from asking many, but he studied the 
problem in silence. 

One morning he observed his mother putting 
wood in the stove, and was moved to ask a 
question which came the more naturally to his 
lips as, in the years he lived with his uncle, he 
had never seen wood burned except for kindling 
fires. 

“Do you burn wood all the time?” was the 
question. 

“Yes; we have a good wood lot, and we cannot 
afford to burn coal.” 

“And if you look out the window you will see 
our wood-pile,” said Beth, bitterly. 


FACING THINGS. 


2 5 


For a moment he was puzzled; then he saw 
how it was. He knew there was no wood-pile 
there, and that it had been Stephen’s habit to 
draw up a log of wood and chip off from it as 
they needed — no, not exactly as they needed, but 
as he was actually driven to it by hunger or 
cold — and Beth declared that she generally cut 
more than half the wood they burned. 

“You don’t know half how lazy Stephen is,” 
she said. 

“Elizabeth! I don’t think you ought to speak 
so.” It was the mother’s reproving voice. 

“Well, I need not. John will find out for him- 
self.” 

After this John took a look at the wood-pile 
and at the wood-lot, and set himself at work to 
prepare wood for the coming year. It was a hard 
task for one unaccustomed to labor of that sort, 
but he soon learned how to do it, and it became 
easier. 

Beth, watching him from the window, sawing 
and splitting and piling, exclaimed — 

“ I say it is a shame ! Stephen ought to take 
hold and help about that wood. Instead, he is 
lounging away his time down at Howland’s. But 
won’t it be bliss to have a wood-pile to go to? I 
am so out of patience with Steve!” 

“You ought not to get out of patience with 
your brother. I know Stephen does not like 


26 


FACING THINGS. 


farm-work. I think that if he could do something 
he likes, he would do differently.” 

“ Humph! Do you suppose John does what he 
likes to do when he works away at that wood-pile? 
Or that I do what I like to do when I wash and 
scrub? I hate it! But I don’t shirk.” 

“That is true, you don’t,” said Mrs. Heckman. 
“But some way you and John are different. 
Stephen is discouraged, and sinks under it ; you 
work away, and fret at him and at your lot. But 
John doesn’t seem to have the ambition that Ste- 
phen has to be somebody in the world.” 

“John is a saint — that is what he is; and Steve 
is a shirk! Both words begin with the same let- 
ter and have the same number of letters, but that 
is all the resemblance. Ambition ! Mother, I do 
not believe any of us know what John is putting 
under his feet for the sake of helping us.” 

“But just think, Elizabeth; Stephen was all 
ready for college when he had to come home and 
take care of the farm. He was such a bright 
scholar!” 

“You mean, come home and let us take care of 
him ! He might stir around and earn money, and 
put himself through college; lots of them do.” 

“My child, what could we do without him ?” 

“Pity sakes! I don’t see what we are going to 
do with him. For my part, I wish he would make 
something of himself, and prove to the world in 


FACING THINGS. 2*J 

general and us in particular that he is good for 
something.” 

“ Hush, child ! ” 

“Mother, let me talk. Now look at that,” 
holding up a potato, which she was peeling. 
“What’s the reason all our potatoes are like that, 
about as big as walnuts, while our neighbors have 
fine large ones ? The reason is, that ours were 
not hoed once, not even ploughed out. And who 
husked the corn ? It would not have been husked 
had it not been for John and me. And a dozen 
other things went to nothing because Steve was 
too lazy or too discouraged to look after them.” 

If Mrs. Heckman had been less sad-hearted, 
she must have laughed at that peculiar stress of 
voice which Beth put upon that word, “discour- 
aged.” But, instead, she sighed; whether over 
Beth or Stephen, or the patch she was putting in 
Stephen’s shirt, the girl could not determine. But 
she finished her potatoes in silence. 

That same evening Mrs. Heckman went to bed 
early with a sick headache. As usual, Stephen 
was away, and John and Beth sat together by the 
kitchen fire. Thanks to John the wood-box was 
full, and for once the old kitchen was warm. 

“ I tell you,” began Beth, “ I can’t think when 
I have felt warm clear through until lately; I 
didn’t know that this old house could get 


warm. 


2 8 


FACING THINGS. 


“Well, those cracks that I stopped used to let 
in considerable cold air.” 

“Yes, and some way, you know how to build a 
fire. Isn’t this cosy? I could almost forget 
that we are poor.” 

John did not make any reply; indeed, he was 
still so long that Beth, weary of the silence, said, 
suddenly — 

“John, what is the matter? Has anything 
gone wrong ? I mean anything new ? ” 

“Not that I know of.” 

“Why don’t you talk, then?” 

“I am thinking,” said John. 

“ I wish you would think aloud, then ; I am 
lonesome.” 

“ My thoughts have not very definite shape ; I 
have been thinking a great deal lately about 
things here.” 

“Not a very taking subject, I should say,” 
returned Beth. 

“Taking or not, it is one that has to be 
thought of. I say, Beth, let’s you and I take 
hold and get out of this Egypt.” 

“ Get out ? What do you mean ? ” 

“I mean just this. Here’s this big debt — 
that stands for old Pharaoh ; this farm, all clear 
of debt, and fixed up as it used to be when 
father was alive, would be a land flowing with 
milk and honey. And if old Pharaoh would let 


FACING THINGS. 2g 

us go, we could make straight for this Canaan. 
See ? ” 

‘‘Yes, I see,” said the girl, her eyes brighten- 
ing as she took in the parallelism; “but Pharaoh 
would never let us go ; he has too strong a grip 
upon us; he’d never let us go.” 

“That is what they said in the old-time story.” 

“ But there won’t be any miracles wrought for 
us!” 

“Why not ?” 

“There are no miracles nowadays.” 

“Plenty of the sort we should want to have 
wrought for us.” 

“You haven’t any rod,” objected Beth. 

“ Haven’t anything else ! In that respect I am 
like Moses. And I am like him in some other 
ways, too. All the time since I came home I 
have been making excuses to the Lord and trying 
to make it plain to myself and to the Lord why 
I should not stay here; but He holds me pinned 
to the answer — ‘Take this rod in thine hand.’ 
Prof. Wells used to say that I had a ‘talent for 
sticking.’ That is my rod. It does not seem 
to be much of a weapon ; but the Lord can make 
it a power just as He did Moses’ poor little rod, 
and He can make it break old Pharaoh’s power.” 

“But it will be a long way out,” sighed Beth. 
“And, if we did get loose, there’s that awful Red 
Sea and the wilderness.” 


30 


FACING THINGS. 


“If I remember, the folks in the story didn’t 
say a word about the Red Sea until they came to 
it ; and as for the wilderness, do you remember 
how it happened that they wandered so long in 
the wilderness ? If we look back to the flesh pots 
of idleness and extravagance, we may find our- 
selves in the same predicament ; but we won’t. 
You see we have their experience all written out 
to profit by.” 

“If you are the Moses to lead us out, what posi- 
tion will you give me? You know I will have to 
go alongside you ; I do not submit to being led, 
very well,” said Beth, laughing. 

“Oh, you will have to be Aaron! You know I 
am like Moses in another respect, I am rather 
slow of speech, while you are a good talker.” 

“I don’t agree with you; I think you are a 
first-rate talker.” 

“But I always have to think out what I am 
going to say, but you talk right off.” 

“That is a doubtful advantage; at least, mother 
says that if I would stop to think before I speak 
I would not say so many unwise things ; that is, 
when I get mad at Steve. But, John, Aaron was 
a man.” 

John laughed. “Doesn’t make any difference; 
this is an era of woman’s power and influence.” 

“But let me see. What became of Aaron? It 
is a long time since I read the story.” 


FACING THINGS. 


31 


“ Oh, he was smitten with leprosy ! ” 

“I remember now. He was jealous of Moses, 
and grumbled. I don’t think I should be jealous 
of you ; but I might forget myself and grumble. 
However, if I am Aaron, I shall try to profit by 
his mistakes and steer clear of his follies.” 

And so with their fancies they beguiled the 
hours until bed-time, trying to make themselves 
forget the burden. Just as they were about to 
say “Good-night,” John said — “Say, Beth, I 
meant that about being Moses and Aaron.” 

“So did I.” 

As John went to his room, he thought — “I 
wanted to tell Beth about that sermon, and how I 
heard God calling to me ; but I was afraid she 
would not understand. She is splendid to take 
in new ideas ; but I do not think she knows about 
the Great Leader.” 

The next morning the indoor atmosphere was 
more cloudy than usual. Stephen grumbled 
about the breakfast, until Beth said — “Now 
see here, Steve, if you are not satisfied with 
what mother can provide, why don’t you go to 
work and earn something that does suit you ? ” 

“ I’d go quick enough and earn my living some- 
where, and have what I earn, too, if it were not 
for the fuss it would make, judging from the row 
there was over Joe’s going; but I’ll get out, any- 
way, before I’ll stay here and starve.” 


32 


FACING THINGS. 


“Can’t make bricks without straw,” said Beth, 
who, stealing a glance at John, saw a look of sym- 
pathy in his face. It was as if he had said — 
“One of old Pharaoh’s burdens. If we were free 
from him, we could have sugar on our griddle- 
cakes every morning.” 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 33 


CHAPTER IV. 

> 

AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 

P OOR Mrs. Heckman had made a grave mis- 
take, one which showed how much her 
life had been guided by her husband’s stronger 
nature. Some women, left as she was, would 
have ruled their own households firmly. Many a 
woman has done this ; many a weak, frail body 
has held a strong, courageous spirit that has stood 
bravely at the helm and guided the family bark 
past the shoals and rocks, through narrow chan- 
nels and in the midst of storms, safely into the 
harbor. And then this same strong spirit has 
advised and directed as the young lives have set 
sail in their own life bark. But Mrs. Heckman 
was not one of these, and she had too soon and 
too entirely given up the steering of the craft into 
the hands of the two older boys. And now, 
because of their inexperience and stubbornness. 


34 


AGREEMENTS ANI) DISAGREEMENTS. 


and the mutiny and final desertion of one, the old 
ship was almost wrecked. 

John very often wondered why his mother had 
allowed herself to take, or be remanded to, a sub- 
ordinate position in the management of affairs, 
and he would say to Beth, as they planned for the 
“Exodus” they meant to make — “Whatever we 
do, mother must be the head.” 

They had been unable to decide how best to 
approach Stephen with their plans. At length, 
Beth said — “I think the best way will be to go 
right on and plan and work without reference to 
him. Let mother manage him.” 

“Still, it seems as if we ought to take him into 
our confidence. It won’t do to try to go one way 
while he is pulling the other, and may be if he 
knew what we wanted to do, he would pull with 
us.” 

“Not much! He will have to be made over 
from ‘top to toe’ before he and you can pull the 
same way.” 

“But, after all, it might be better to talk it 
over with him,” persisted John. 

“And get snubbed for your pains! Now you 
just take my advice. Anyway, I am to do the 
talking, so let me take my time for telling him. 
It will all come out right if we let things take 
their course.” 

Meantime, John, after talking it over with his 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 35 

mother, mustered courage to go and see Colonel 
Parsons, to whom the debt was due. 

“How much is my mother’s debt to you?” he 
asked. 

“What do you want to know for?” growled 
the colonel. “Want to pay it, I suppose?” 

“Yes, sir, I want to pay it; not to-day, of 
course, but” — 

“I thought likely it wouldn’t be to-day.” 

“But, sir, I intend to pay that debt.” 

“You do!” The boy’s tone was so quiet and 
so resolute that Colonel Parsons could not help 
it that his own changed somewhat, softening a 
trifle. 

“Yes, sir; and I came over this morning to 
ask you how long you can give me to pay it in.” 

“That’s a pretty question to ask me! You 
must know that I can’t get hold of the farm 
until that youngster is of age, and there is no 
likelihood that there’ll ever be live stock or any 
crops worth attaching.” 

“ I don’t know about that, sir. I live at home 
now, and I mean to stock the farm if I can make 
some arrangement with you.” 

“You! And who are you that you put on 
such airs ? ” And as he spoke Col. Parsons sur- 
veyed the young fellow who stood before him, 
modest and unassuming in manner, yet deter- 
mined in attitude and in expression. 


3 6 AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 

“I am Mrs. Heckman’s son. I have not been 
at home since my father died, until lately ; now 
I have come home to stay.” 

“ So you said ; but what of it ? ” 

“Well, I have been thinking matters over and 
talking with mother, and she says we may try. 
So I have come over to see if I can make some 
agreement with you, as my mother’s creditor, 
so I can go on and stock the farm, and make an 
effort to get clear of this old Pharaoh.” 

“Don’t go to calling names, you young ras- 
cal ! ” shouted the colonel. 

“I beg your pardon,” said John, quickly; “I 
did not mean you. You see, my sister and I 
have named this debt, that won’t let us have a 
chance, ‘old King Pharaoh,’ and we are just 
going to try to beat him out,” and the boy 
laughed. 

“What in the world do you mean?” asked the 
colonel. 

“ Why, you remember the Bible story ? ” 

“No; I haven’t looked in a Bible these forty 
years. I suppose my wife has one somewhere 
around the house, but I don’t know any Bible 
stories.” 

“Well, you just read up old Pharaoh the first 
chance you get, and then you will see what Beth 
and I mean.” 

“Blame me if I don’t! I want to find out 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 3 7 

what this youngster has got into his head.” 
Then in a louder tone — “Now what is it that 
you want of me ? ” 

“I want a chance to pay that debt.” 

“Who’ll hinder you if you want to pay it?” 

“You can hinder me, sir, if you choose.” 

“Likely I’ll hinder any one paying me money 
that they owe me ! Seems to me that you must 
take me for a fool.” 

“No, sir; not at all. But I think you under- 
stand that by the terms of my father’s will the 
farm cannot be sold until my brother Frank is 
twenty-one, and he is only eleven now. But, as I 
understand it, you can take anything we may 
raise or any stock we may have for the debt. I 
want to make a contract with you. You are to 
give me five years, or until I am twenty-one, to 
pay you. If you do this, you will be no worse off 
than you will be if you refuse, and you stand a 
chance of getting your money sooner ; for, unless 
I can get such an agreement, of course it will be 
of no use to try to do anything in the way of 
stocking the farm, or to lay out any work on 
it.” 

“I see,” replied the colonel. “You .think you 
have the advantage. You are a sharp one; who 
is your lawyer? Why didn’t you send him to 
talk this over? ” 

“I haven’t any lawyer. I have been reading 


38 AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 

the will and studying up the matter, and this is 
the way it seems to me.” 

“ I guess you are about right. I am in a tight 
fix, I know; and I tell you, boy, I never expected 
to get a cent until the farm came into the 
market, and by that time I reckoned the interest 
would have eaten up the farm, for I manage to 
get only just about enough out of your mother 
to keep the debt from outlawing. Ten years is a 
good while to wait for the pleasure of turning you 
all out of doors, isn’t it ? And I guess, seeing as 
how you have studied it all out, I may as well fall 
in with your plan and take the chances with you. 
If I understand it, what you want is this : No 
matter how much blooded stock and how many 
fine horses and carriages you have, I am not to 
lay my hands upon anything for five years. Is 
that it ? My, you are a sharper ! ” 

“Well, if I am, do you not see that my sharp- 
ness will benefit you as well as myself?” 

“But see here, young man. You are a minor; 
I cannot enter into any contract with you 
legally.” 

“Yes, sir, you can; at least, you can bind your- 
self, and that is all I want.” 

“You young scamp! You want to get the 
better of me, after all.” 

“No, sir; and don’t you see that you will not 
be any worse off yourself if you give me a chance 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 


to do something ? I think' that you will be will- 
ing to do that when you come to think of it, and 
I do not believe that you are afraid to trust me. 
I shall live up to my agreement just the same as 
if I was legally bound.” 

“ How do you know all this if you have not 
been to a lawyer ? ” 

“ I studied civil government at school, and I 
have heard my uncle talk with men who came 
to the office.” 

“Humph! I suppose other boys have studied 
things, too ; but fellows of your age don't gener- 
ally set themselves up to wheedle old fellows like 
me into making contracts that only bind on one 
side.” 

“But not many boys of my age are situated 
just as I am,” returned John, with a little tremble 
in his voice which the colonel noticed, but he 
only said — 

“Well, well, you do beat all the youngsters I 
ever saw. Going to try to pay the debt, eh ? 
Well, I suppose I may as well give you the chance. 
As you say, I will not be any worse off, for you 
can’t eat up the land nor run away with it. Now, 
just how do you want to fix it ? ” 

Hereupon the boy laid his plan in detail before 
the astonished man, who saw that it was certainly 
not unfair to himself, and that he could in no way 
be the loser by entering into it ; and, on the other 


40 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 


hand, he might be the gainer. Just how much he 
was to gain by that simple act, he did not then 
suspect ; indeed, he could not have understood 
had he been told of all the results that would flow 
from that morning’s work. 

“What about Stephen? Will he fall in with 
this scheme of yours ? ” 

“I do not know; I wanted to be certain of 
your assistance before I talked with him. Of 
course, mother is pleased, or I should not have 
come to you. Beth will stand by me, and I think 
Stephen will be willing that the experiment 
should be made. Like yourself, he will not be 
hurt if it fails.” 

“Well, have it your way; I shall be going to 
the village Saturday, and you can go along, so we 
will have Judkins fix this up ship-shape.” 

“Thank you; I am sure you will never be 
sorry for this.” 

John turned away, not daring to trust himself 
to say another word ; he had heard so much of 
Colonel Parsons’ gruffness and hard-heartedness 
that he had dreaded this interview ; and now that 
it was over, and he had gained his point, he was 
almost overcome. 

The colonel looked after him, and said to him- 
self — “That’s a plucky fellow, any way, and he 
thanked me as if I was doing him a great favor in 
helping him to hoist that burden on to his young 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 


41 


shoulders. But, if he is like the rest of them, he 
will drop it quick enough.” 

It was the next day, after supper. Beth was 
mixing a bread-sponge while her mother washed 
up the dishes. Drawing her head out of the bar- 
rel, she exclaimed — 

“ I declare, this flour-barrel is almost empty 
again ! ” 

John had just finished filling the wood-box; 
Stephen sat with his chair tilted , back against the 
wall, and as Beth looked from one brother to the 
other, she thought — “Steve is the very picture of 
shiftlessness.” Stephen was a great disappoint- 
ment to this sister ; she had been proud of him 
not so very long ago ; but lately she was, as she 
said, “ out of patience with him more than half 
the time.” 

John walked over and looked into the flour-bar- 
rel, and stood a moment beside the girl as she 
sifted and stirred with an energy that was char- 
acteristic ; presently he turned toward his mother. 

“Don’t you think, mother, it would be a good 
plan to put in an acre or two of spring wheat? 
You know I helped Mr. Swan fan his wheat the 
other day, and he said he would let us have some 
seed wheat.” 

Stephen’s chair came down on all four of its 
legs. 

“Who is running this farm, any way?” he 


42 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 


asked, angrily. “ It strikes me that the fellow 
that does the work ought to make the plans ; it 
b need not concern you what I sow. If I do the 
work I’ll do the planning.” 

“All right,” John sung out, good-naturedly, 
“we agree there; and as I have been doing my 
share since I came home, I thought I might as 
well do a little planning.” 

“Work! Winter’s work isn’t anything.” 

“No; it is only to build the fires in the morn- 
ing, bring water, cut wood for the year’s supply, 
attend to the stock, and shovel paths, besides a 
few other little things ! ” 

Early in the winter John had discovered that 
his mother was accustomed to rise first and build 
the fire and that Stephen was not in the habit 
of getting up until called to breakfast, grumbling 
then if breakfast was on the table before nine 
o’clock; and John had soon fallen into the way of 
“doing the chores,” as the morning and evening 
round of work is styled. 

Knowing all his brother had done, Stephen felt 
the thrust a little; yet he answered, crossly — 

“Well, I don’t suppose you expect to come 
home and live upon us without doing anything, do 
you ? ” 

“Oh, boys, don’t quarrel.” It was the moth- 
er’s beseeching voice. 

“No, we are not; I don’t see anything to quar- 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 43 

rel about. As I understand things, we have 
equal rights here. If I have not done anything 
here in all these years, neither have I cost you 
anything. Of course mother is the one to say 
what shall be done. But, now I have come home, 
we ought to do more work on the farm and so get 
ahead a little. It seems to me that, if we all take 
hold together, we can get out of debt and fix up 
things nicely.” 

“ Out of debt ! We can never do that, and 
there is no use in talking of it. The only way 
is to live along as best we can. The old farm is 
like a millstone about our necks; it just drags us 
down. If it had not been for that senseless 
will”— 

“Stop!” It was the mother’s voice again, but 
not beseeching as before ; it was commanding, 
and even Stephen was startled. 

“You shall not speak so of your father’s plans.” 

“I’ll say what I think,” declared the angry boy. 

“Not in this house, if that is what you think.” 

“I should like to see anybody shut my mouth,” 
he retorted. 

“You forget that the house is mine, and that 
you are not of age,” said Mrs. Heckman, out- 
wardly calm but inwardly frightened at herself. 

“Well, I think I have some rights here,” 
insisted Stephen, speaking a little more calmly. 

“Now, let me speak,” said Beth. “There 


44 AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 

seems to be a difference of opinion as to who is 
the head of this household; it might as well be 
settled.” 

“Why, mother is the head, of course,” said 
Stephen. 

“Then if it is not a difference of opinion, the 
difficulty is in the practice, eh, Stevie ? ” 

“Exactly! I don’t want any city upstart to 
come in and order me around.” 

John’s face flushed at this reference to himself, 
but he kept silent, having decided to let “Aaron” 
do the talking. Beth’s cheeks were very red, and 
she stood waiting, as if she did not consider that 
last remark worthy of a reply ; and Stephen went 
on — 

“ I concede that mother is the head ; but the 
rest of us have rights, and I don’t propose to be 
crowded out, either; and if I am not twenty-one I 
am old enough to have opinions, and after doing 
the work on the farm all these years, I ought to 
know best what ought to be done.” 

“The farm shows the work that has been done 
on it.” Beth spoke sarcastically, and naturally 
Stephen flew into a passion. 

“I’ve done more work here than I’ll ever do 
again ! ” 

Beth had crossed the room and was standing 
beside Stephen ; now she laid her hand on his 
shoulder, saying — “Stevie, you know it won’t pay 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 45 

to get cross at me ; you always have the trouble 
of getting over it, and being sorry. Now I want 
to say something. I am old enough to have opin- 
ions ; and, as I have done some of the work here, 
perhaps you will own that I ought to have a right 
to help plan. We have been going down hill ever 
since I can remember; we don’t seem to be able 
to catch on to a bush or twig anywhere to hold on 
by ; but we just slip, slip down, and at the rate we 
are going, we shall soon be at the bottom. But it 
seems to me that if we would all take hold 
together and all pull together, we might get out 
of the slough.” 

Stephen laughed in spite of his ill-temper. 
“Say, Beth, aren’t you mixing your metaphors a 
little ? ” 

“Well, I’ll go back to the first one. Here 
John joins us just as we are almost at the bottom, 
and he says — ‘Let’s climb up together, step by 
step, and we can get back by helping each other.’ 
In other words, he thinks we can pay off the debts.” 

“Then he is a simpleton! I’ll never pay a 
cent of my earnings to old Parsons. You might 
just as well throw away your money.” 

“ I don’t see how it can be throwing away 
money to pay an honest debt.” 

“ Honest debt ! There are precious few honest 
debts in this world. Poor people don’t owe the 
rich anything. That old curmudgeon has more 


4 6 AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 

than his share of property already. If we have 
been lucky enough to get hold of a little that 
rightfully belongs to us, so much our gain ; I 
sha’n’t help pay it back, and you are a set of 
precious fools if you undertake it ! ” 

We must do Stephen the justice to suppose 
that he had actually overlooked the fact that his 
mother might be included in this last remark. 
He had fallen, it is true, but not so low as to wit- 
tingly call his mother a fool. 

“Well, we are going to undertake it all the 
same, whether you approve or not,” said the girl, 
nothing daunted by his rudeness. 

“Just what are you going to undertake?” 

“To pay Colonel Parsons the money we owe 
him, and to get things in better shape. We have 
lived like ‘poor whites’ long enough; mother, 
won’t you tell Stephen about the agreement Col- 
onel Parsons is willing to enter into ? ” 

“Yes, I knew there was something behind all 
this; and, if you have no objections, I should like 
to be let into the secret, though I may not care to 
have part or lot in the matter.” And Stephen 
turned toward his mother. 

“There is no secret, and very little to tell.” 
Bright spots on both cheeks told of a strong feel- 
ing which Mrs. Heckman was holding in check 
by a will which had suddenly asserted itself. 
“There is only this: John is quite willing to take 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 4/ 

hold with you ; and together you can do more 
thorough farming than you have been able to do 
alone, and it does seem as though we might get 
upon our feet again. I would be glad if we 
might all work together harmoniously.” 

“And let John be master, I suppose? Not if 
I know myself ! ” Shaking off Beth’s detaining 
hand, Stephen banged out of the house. 

“ I am afraid we made a mistake in not telling 
him our plans sooner,” said John, much troubled. 

“We couldn’t tell plans before they were made; 
and you see that even now he wouldn’t wait to 
hear it out. It would have made no difference 
when we told him. I know Stephen Heckman 
better than you do. Any way, he will only fume 
around a spell and then settle down to doing 
nothing, as usual.” 

“Elizabeth!” 

“Mother, I’m done. I will be patient; but 
that boy does try me ! ” 

As Beth predicted, Stephen recovered from his 
fit of ill humor; his mother tried to interest him 
in their plans, explaining the nature of the agree- 
ment which Colonel Parsons was willing to enter 
into ; but he would not be interested, declared he 
would not help, that it could not be done, and 
that the idea was “stuff and nonsense.” One 
morning, after an evening spent at Howland’s, he 
announced — 


48 AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 

“If you people are going to be so silly as to 
turn all your earnings into old Parsons’ coffers, I 
shall look out for myself; so I have engaged to 
work for Stedman this summer.” 

“Stedman! Oh, Stephen, how can you?” 

“Seems to me you are hard to please.” 

“ But he is such a hard man ; it seems wrong 
to go into his employ.” 

“ Mother, I suppose Stedman’s money is as 
good as any, and I guess you made a mistake four 
years ago ; you remember, that vacation before 
Joe went away, Deacon Jewett wanted me, and 
Mr. Bates advised you to let me go there ; but 
you said that we needed money badly, and Bur- 
gess offered me a dollar a month more, so you let 
me go there for the sake of the dollar. You put 
money before morals then ; and if Jim Burgess 
was good enough four years ago, I guess I can 
stand Stedman now.” 

Mrs. Heckman sighed; she remembered that 
summer, and she had long ago seen her mistake; 
it was not necessary that she should be reminded 
of it ; but, knowing it was useless to expostulate, 
she made no response to Stephen’s remarks. But 
Beth, who was equal to any occasion, said — 

“Well, Stevie, I suppose you know that mother 
can collect your wages — every cent? If she 
says so, Mr. Stedman is obliged to pay the money 
to her.” 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 49 

“It appears to me that you are getting very 
wise. I presume you will study for a lawyer yet. 
But I can tell you that mother knows better than 
to do that ; she knows I won’t work unless I can 
control my own earnings.” 

“All I have to say is, that you need a guardian; 
you earned a hundred dollars last summer and fall 
in the canning factory, while I husked corn and 
dug potatoes ; and you spent every cent on your- 
self, and then came home for mother to support 
you through the winter. If you go off and leave 
the work here this summer, I think you ought to 
either pay mother part of your money or else take 
care of yourself next winter.” 

“See here. Don’t I buy my own clothes?” 

“Yes; and you haven’t had a decent thing to 
wear all winter.” 

“Depends upon what you call decent. My 
clothes suit me well enough, and they suited you 
until John came home with his broadcloth.” 

Mrs. Heckman and Beth set themselves to get- 
ting Stephen’s wardrobe ready, and in a few days 
he went to fill his engagement. John was much 
troubled over Stephen’s course; but his mother 
and Beth assured him that things were no worse 
for his being at home; on the contrary, his 
brother was less difficult to get along with than 
formerly, John’s presence seeming to be some- 
what of a check upon him. During the last few 


50 


AGREEMENTS ANI) DISAGREEMENTS. 


days of his stay at home he was very pleasant, and 
did more work than he had done for a long 
time. 

Meanwhile, the matter which the colonel had 
proposed to have Lawyer Judkins fix up had been 
arranged ; and as they came away from the office, 
Colonel Parsons said — 

“Well, I tell you, youngster, it is a long row 
and a tough one you have to hoe.” 

“I know that; but one hill at a time, and 
steady at it, and the longest row will be finished 
at last.” 

“How are you going to manage?” 

“I don’t know, exactly; I have a little money 
of my own ; we shall have to buy a few tools and 
seeds, and I want to set out as many small fruits 
as I can. We may have to let part of the land 
run wild this year for want of means to work it. 
We must make hay enough to keep what stock we 
have. I think I shall work if I can get a chance, 
to earn money to start with another year. I 
thought perhaps we could get some seed potatoes 
and seed corn upon condition of returning with 
use next fall. Mother says that sometimes farm- 
ers accommodate each ' other that way. Do you 
think we could do that? We do not mean to ask 
favors which we cannot return.” 

Colonel Parsons listened to the boy’s recital of 
his plans, saying very little in reply ; but when 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 


51 


he had let John out of the carriage at home, he 
said, talking to his horse, I suppose — 

“I’m a fool; I know it, and I can’t help it. I 
like the boy’s grit ; I’ll send him over a bushel of 
seed corn and some potatoes, and I sha’n’t take 
’em back next fall, either.” 

A few days afterward, he was in the granary 
filling a bag with seed grain, and John was hold- 
ing the bag. 

“Well, you young Moses,” the colonel began, 
“ I have been reading up that story you spoke of 
the other day ; you see we have had several rainy 
days lately, and some rheumatic twinges warned 
me to keep dry, so I thought I would look up that 
old king. It is a pretty story, now isn’t it ? 
That fellow Moses was a plucky fellow ; but then 
he never could have done anything without his 
rod; you can’t ever come it over your old Pha- 
raoh without a rod — don’t you know that?” 

“Oh, but I have my rod, too ! ” 

“ You have ! Where do you keep it ? ” 

“I keep it with me.” 

“Haven’t wrought any miracles with it yet, 
have you ? ” 

“Well, yes; I rather think so,” replied John, 
thinking that if having this Colonel Parsons, who, 
everybody said, was such a hard man, so kind and 
helpful, was not a miracle, there never was one. 

“My wife thought it was queer that I had 


52 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 


taken to reading the Bible ; and to tell the truth, 
I felt rather queer myself — kind o’ sheepish, you 
know. But I explained that I was looking up 
something you told me about. Now that is a 
pretty good notion of yours. Debt is a hard task- 
master; that part about making bricks without 
straw fits in first-rate. When a fellow is in debt 
he is tied hand and foot.” 

“There are lots of good stories in that book,” 
said John. 

“Yes, I suppose so; but some way I never 
took much interest in the Bible. I always calcu- 
lated that it belonged to the priests to do up the 
Bible for us. My wife reads it some, and my old 
mother used to love it. When I read about 
Moses lying there in the bulrushes, it came back 
to me how she used to tell me the story ; and if 
you’ll believe it, I had to brush away the tears ! 
Well, I am an old fool to be telling you this.” 
The colonel broke off, and went back to the bin 
for an extra measure of seed. “There, if you 
have any luck you won’t mind paying back the 
seed, and if you don’t, we’ll say the seed wasn’t 
good for anything. Here, I’ll give you a lift ; the 
bag is rather heavy for you.” As John drove 
away, the colonel went back to the granary to 
shut down the lids of the bins, and as he came 
out and locked the door, he said— “There, there, 
I have been and made an old goose of myself 


AGREEMENTS AND DISAGREEMENTS. 53 

again ! I do believe that boy has bewitched me.” 

The spring wheat was put in the ground, other 
grains sown ; berry bushes set out, and a few 
grape-vines planted. Some necessary tools had 
to be purchased, but right here came in more of 
Colonel Parsons’ foolishness, as he termed every 
act of kindness he was led into. 

“See here!” he said. “You may as well hitch 
on to my wheel-plough ; it runs much easier than 
your old one.” Again it was — “Don’t be afraid 
to come to my tool-shop any time for spades or 
shovels, hoes or rakes ; you can return the favor 
some time, you know.” Another day, he said — 
“Your team hasn’t been very well fed, and Pat- 
rick might as well take the grays, and give you a 
lift on your ploughing to-day and to-morrow. It 
will be all right ; I presume I shall call on you 
before long for a favor.” 


54 


REACHING OUT. 


CHAPTER V. 

REACHING OUT. 


“ None of us liveth to himself.” 


J OHN, do you know that this is a hard neigh, 
borhood ? ” 

It had been a warm day for April, and even 
after sunset the air was not at all chilling ; and 
the brother and sister, who had been hard at work 
all day, sat on the doorstep talking of their work, 
their plans, and their hopes. They had also been 
talking of their neighbors, and of matters in the 
neighborhood, when Beth suddenly asked the 
question. 

“I know that it has a hard name,” was John’s 
reply. 

“Something ought to be done.” 

“ What could be done ? ” 

“I’m sure I don’t know! But my ignorance 
does not alter the fact.” 


REACHING OUT. 55 

“I don’t think it would be easy to determine 
what could be done.” 

“Neither does that fact alter the other,” per- 
sisted Beth, adding — “Suppose that we put our 
wits at work, and see if we cannot think out 
something.” 

“Don’t you think, Beth, that we shall have 
enough to do to get ourselves out without trying 
to drag all the neighborhood through the Red Sea 
and the wilderness ? ” 

“Well, you see, John, we shall never get far 
beyond our neighbors ; we shall just have to take 
them along.” 

“Think so ? ” 

“Yes. If we had never been on terms of inti- 
macy it would be different ; we can’t break away 
from them very well ; if they won’t come along, and 
will break away from us, it will be another matter.” 

“What ought to be done is to overthrow that 
saloon. They call it a store, but it is a saloon, 
with a few groceries kept to draw the custom of 
one class.” 

Beth shook her head doubtfully. 

“You don’t think it could be accomplished ? ” 

“ I don’t see how.” 

“But do you not think that anything which 
may be done to make the neighborhood more 
respectable will be a stone knocked out from the 
foundation that saloon stands upon ? ” 


REACHING OUT. 


56 


“Perhaps so. But what can we do? Maybe 
if we could arrange for some real sensible enter- 
tainments once in awhile, it would help.” 

“We might observe Arbor Day to begin 
with.” 

“That’s an idea! John, you are just splendid! 
Let’s go down to Lizzie’s and talk it over with 
her and Bob.” 

“ How you do rush at things ! ” 

“We will have to rush this, for Arbor Day is 
not far off.” At Lizzie’s they found two or three 
other young people, and with these and Lizzie and 
Bob they formed themselves into a committee to 
arrange for Arbor Day. 

The young people generally fell in with the 
plan ; some for the frolic of the thing, others 
because of the dinner which it was decided should 
be served at the Corners, and still others entered 
into the real spirit of the day ; while a few of the 
older people opposed the scheme. The Howland 
brothers favored it until they learned of the din- 
ner plan, then they joined the opposition, because 
they were aware that the hot coffee would inter- 
fere with their business. Beth was deputed to 
ask a favor of Colonel Parsons, which she did in 
this wise : “I am commissioned to ask if you will 
let us have the use of your barn to set the tables 
in for the Arbor Day dinner.” 

“My barn! Tables! For Arbor Day? I 


REACHING OUT. 57 

don’t know what you are talking about. What 
are you going to set tables for?” 

“Why, for the dinner, of course.” 

“Who is to eat the dinner?” 

“ Why, the boys ” — 

“Yes, boys ! But what boys ? ” 

“Why, Colonel Parsons, you surely know about 
Arbor Day ? ” 

“You say I do, and I hate to contradict a lady. 
But you will have to explain. Is that another of 
your Bible stories ? ” 

Beth laughed as she replied — “I do not think 
you will find it mentioned in the Bible, though 
I should not wonder if the principle might be 
there.” 

“Now, tell me just what you are up to.” 

Hereupon, Beth explained to the bewildered 
man that' Arbor Day was a time for setting out 
trees, and that it had been made a legal holiday in 
several States, that the boys of the neighborhood 
had planned to work together, and that the girls 
were to get dinner to save the trouble of going 
home, as well as to have a better time. 

“And,” she concluded, “we wanted to set the 
tables in your barn, as it might be too cold to eat 
out of doors. We thought of asking the trustee 
for the school-house, but as Mr. Scott is rather 
opposed to the scheme we decided not to ask 
him.” 


58 


REACHING OUT. 


“And so you think I will be better-natured 
than Mr. Scott, and you ask for my barn ? No, 
sir ! Not if I know myself ! ” 

Beth was frightened, and almost ready to cry; 
but she controlled herself and replied quickly — 
“If you are not willing, it is all right; we hoped 
you would favor the plan.” 

“Who says I don’t favor it? You can’t have 
my barn, but you can have our big kitchen and 
dining-room ; can’t they, wife ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied Mrs. Parsons ; “ I would be 
only too glad to have the house filled with young 
folks once in a while.” 

“But, Mrs. Parsons, there will be a lot of 
muddy boots to bring into the house.” 

“ Girl, do you think my wife and I never saw 
any mud ? ” 

“And so Scott don’t approve, eh?” the colonel 
said, a little later. 

“No, sir; the boys wanted to set out trees 
around the school-house, but he would not consent, 
said it was all nonsense, and that they would do 
more mischief digging up the turf than the trees 
would do good. We thought it would make it 
pleasanter having trees growing upon the Green ; 
but I suppose we cannot do anything if he 
objects.” 

“I’d like to know why; but I’ll see about that, 
and you tell the boys that they can go into the 


REACHING OUT. 59 

woods and get all the trees they want, provided 
they do my share of the setting out.” 

“But, sir, suppose they want a great many? 
There’ll be a lot of workers.” 

“Of course! Think I don’t know how many 
boys there are in this neighborhood ? Mercy, 
I’ve had experience enough with them, off and on, 
to know! Tell them to get all they can use, and 
I’ll fix Scott. I’ll go right up there now and 
have it out, while you and my wife arrange about 
the dinner.” He drew on his coat, turning back 
from the hall to say — “Now I think of it, there’s 
a calf fatting out in the barn that will be just 
prime. Veal isn’t fetching anything anyway, so 
you may just calculate on roast veal for the 
crowd; hot, too — none of your cold cuts.” 

Once more he turned back, this time to say to 
his wife — 

“I suppose I might as well stop and speak to 
Mrs. Donnelly about helping you on this impor- 
tant occasion ? There’ll be considerable to do to 
look after such a parcel of girls and boys.” 

“I am very glad you came to us,” said Mrs. 
Parsons. “The colonel has taken a fancy to that 
brother of yours, and this will bring us in con- 
tact with other young people, which I think will 
do us both good. We live so much by ourselves 
that we get narrow. But if you had planned it, 
you could not have done a wiser thing than to 


6o 


REACHING OUT. 


have mentioned Mr. Scott. He and the colonel 
don’t agree first-rate — oh, there’s no quarrel! 
The colonel don’t like him, and if he is opposed 
to a thing the colonel will push it through.” 

When it became known that Colonel Parsons 
had taken up the scheme of the boys and girls, 
the idea speedily gained favor, and the committee 
found that they had a far larger enterprise on 
their hands than they had anticipated ; but they 
had strong backers, and everything moved off 
smoothly. One morning Beth came home from a 
consultation with Mrs. Parsons with a new idea, 
and she went to talk with John. 

“Colonel Parsons says that if you will write to 
Prof. Frink, and get him to come and give a lect- 
ure in the school-house on tree-planting — how to 
do it, and all that — he will pay the expenses. 
Isn’t that just splendid? Patrick is going to the 
village this afternoon, and if you write the letter 
at dinner-time, I can send it to the office.” 

The letter was written, and Prof. Frink came 
and talked in an easy, familiar way to a crowded 
house. Such a thing as a lecture upon a practical 
topic in that school-house was never heard of 
before. The result was, that the greater number 
of the trees which were set out the next day lived 
and flourished, the directions given were so simple 
and plain, and so easily remembered and followed. 

The tree-planting was a success, as rows and 


REACHING OUT. 


6 1 


groups of trees growing to-day upon West Hill 
will testify, and the dinner was a success, as those 
who partook will tell you if you ask them even at 
this late day. Perhaps we should not say that 
this was the beginning of better things for West 
Hill, for was not the beginning further back in the 
consecration of a young life to the work of leading 
out his own family from their bondage ? But there 
are those who know nothing of that consecration, 
who, looking back, date the beginning of a great 
change from this first observance of Arbor Day. 

Howland had made his store as attractive as he 
knew how, trimming with evergreens and flags, 
hoping to attract some of the boys. Although he 
was vexed over the big dinner, which would 
naturally draw away much of his custom, he did 
not dream how completely he was to be eclipsed 
for one day. The company had assembled at the 
entrance of the wood-lot, awaiting the coming of 
the colonel. While they waited, an enthusiastic 
young fellow proposed three cheers for the colonel. 
These were given with a will ; then another pro- 
posed cheers for the girls who were going to serve 
the dinner. These, too, were heartily given, 
when, to the surprise of everybody, Bob Davis 
mounted the fence, and said — “Now I wish to 
offer a resolution : 

“Whereas, The ladies have so generously offered to furnish 
refreshments for the day, and whereas, there will be ready at the 


62 


REACHING OUT. 


Green in front of the school-house at ten o’clock a can of hot 
coffee, and there will be dinner at one o’clock at Col. Parson’s; 
therefore, 

Resolved , That this company to a man pledge themselves not 
to touch beer or any other liquor, nor any tobacco, during this 
day. I move the adoption of this resolution.” 

“I second the motion,” called out a voice from 
the crowd. Then a second reading of the resolu- 
tion was called for, and a rousing shout was the 
response when the vote was taken. For one day 
Howland’s was deserted. 

As Beth and John talked it over that night, 
John said — “I was never more surprised in my 
life. I never dreamed that Bob was made of that 
sort of stuff.” 

And Beth said, thoughtfully — “ What strikes 
me is, if for one day, why not for always ? ” 


OLD GOLD. 


63 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ OLD GOLD.” 

“She seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly with her 
hands.” 

B ETH stood in the middle of the room of the 
old farm-house which had been the parlor 
in more prosperous days, though now they were 
accustomed to speak of it as “ the other room ” ; 
and that was all that could be said of it — it was 
just the other room, empty and forlorn. It was 
large, square, low-ceiled, with four good-sized win- 
dows high from the floor. The walls had once 
been hung with gilt paper, now torn and stained, 
while the woodwork, once white, was yellow and 
smoky. 

“If it were not so large,” she mused, “or if we 
had anything to put into it — if — if — I could go 
on a week and say ‘if’ at every sentence. Now 
what can be done without any ‘ ifs ’ ? That’s the 
question. ” 


6 4 


OLD GOLD. 


Presently, after considerable knitting of the 
pretty brows, she gave two or three emphatic 
nods and went quickly to find her mother. 

Mrs. Heckman was in the kitchen stirring up a 
Johnny-cake for supper. As Beth appeared, she 
said, with a half-smile — “There was a time when I 
thought a Johnny-cake could not be made without 
eggs, or cream, or both.” 

“Well, mother, you certainly have got the 
knack of making them without either. But one 
of these days we’ll have both. But now I want 
to ask if I may do what I please in the other 
room. I mean, may I fix it any way I please, 
or any way I can, with paint or paper or anything 
so as to make it a place fit to sit down in ? ” 

“My child, where will you get the money to do 
anything with ? It would cost a great deal to 
furnish that room ever so simply. I mean a 
great deal for us.” And Mrs. Heckman sighed 
as she remembered the pretty furnishings of that 
parlor when she first began housekeeping. 

“ Oh, what I mean to do won’t cost much 1 I 
have it all planned, and you will see what I can 
make out of almost nothing.” 

“Well, child, I am sure I do not care what you 
do; the room is of no use to us as it is, so do 
what you like. But I am afraid you will soon be 
discouraged about making it a respectable place 
for a sitting-room.” 


OLD GOLD. 


65 


‘‘Thank you,” returned Beth, ignoring the dis- 
couraging remark with which her mother ended. 
“ And now one thing more. — I want you to promise 
not to look in until I am through.” 

Mrs. Heckman was quite willing to promise, 
and then the girl began again — 

“And I want to ask you about another matter. 
Mr. Kelly wants some help in his berry-field, and 
I want to learn about training the vines so as to 
help John with ours, and besides, I want to earn 
some money. Will you let me go for a few 
days ? ” 

It was with very great reluctance that Mrs. 
Heckman consented to this. The mother’s ideas 
were often unconsciously outraged by this ener- 
getic daughter. They might be poor, they might 
even live almost in rags and upon the most 
meagre fare, yet so long as she could keep this 
fair young daughter from going out to service, 
the mother fancied that they were independent 
and respectable. That clause in her petition 
about wanting to learn- the business of berry- 
culture saved Beth a refusal that time. Those 
two young things almost took away their mother’s 
breath with their ideas and their energy ; Beth 
had always possessed energy enough, but only 
since John came had it begun to work out in a 
practical shape. 

That very afternoon Beth paid a visit to the 


66 


OLD GOLD. 


attic. The first thing she laid her hands upon 
was a broken chair. It was one of the parlor 
set, cane-seated, dark wood; the top of the back 
broken off. 

“Some glue, a piece of wire, and a rivet will 
fix that,” she said, setting it aside. Next, she 
took up a chair of the same set, which had simply 
fallen to pieces. 

“ Glue ! ” was her laconic prescription. 

The Boston rocker had two legs broken off 
close to the rocker. 

“Jackknife, gimlet, and glue!” 

An old-fashioned leaf table, one leaf broken off, 
the other hanging by one hinge ; a set of book- 
shelves with broken cords, and other dilapidated 
furniture came in for examination, and were duly 
inventoried in her memory and set aside for 
repairs. 

“ Mother, do you know what a lot of furniture 
there is in the attic that could be mended?” 
This she said as she came down-stairs, covered 
with dust and festooned with cobwebs. 

“I know there is a lot of stuff there, and I 
have no doubt that much of it could be repaired ; 
but Stephen never had any knack at fixing things, 
and we never had the money to pay the cabinet- 
maker for repairs.” 

“Cabinet-maker! We don’t need any; I can 
fix things myself. A pot of glue, some screws, 


OLD GOLD. 


67 


nails, strings, and a lot of varnish with a little 
gumption will work wonders and set us up finely, 
so that all the neighbors will think we have been 
refurnishing with goods straight from Paris.” 

Again, a month later, Beth stood in that room, 
and looked around, this time her face wearing a 
pleased and satisfied expression. It was certainly 
a very different-looking place. The ceiling was 
a clear blue-white; Mrs. Heckman herself had 
laid the whitewash so smoothly that Beth declared 
that it looked as nice as Mrs. Parsons’ kalsomined 
ceilings. Then, true to her promise, Mrs. Heck- 
man had kept out of the room, leaving Beth to 
work her own sweet will. Once the mother’s 
heart stood still for a moment when she heard a 
heavy fall in the room, followed by perfect still- 
ness ; she almost broke her promise, but, recol- 
lecting herself, she called at the door — 

“ Elizabeth, dear ! ” 

‘‘Yes, mother.” 

“Are you hurt ? ” 

“Hurt? Oh, no ! ” Then a merry laugh, and 
the mother smiled as she went back to her work, 
thinking that the child was not easily hurt. 

The walls of the room were hung with pale, 
cream-colore3 paper of very small pattern, so that 
the effect was almost as good as though the 
paper were plain and heavy, though to be explicit, 
it cost seven cents a roll. The woodwork had 


68 


OLD GOLD. 


been the occasion of some discussion. Upon con- 
fiding to John her resolve to paint the room, Beth 
was confronted by his declaration very positively 
expressed — “You can never do that.” 

“Yes, I can. I was at Mr. Broughton’s yester- 
day, and watched him at his painting. It seemed 
so easy that I asked him to let me take his brush 
and try; and, when I tried it, he said I did it 
first-rate; and then he showed me some things 
about it, and if I should decide to do any painting 
this spring he would mix my paints for me and 
lend me his brushes.” 

When she was fairly ready to commence, John 
thought the woodwork should be white. 

“Can’t afford it, ” said Beth, decidedly. “You 
see, I have studied up this thing; white paint 
costs. Of course, I could put on cheap white, 
but it turns yellow; then you have to finish off 
with a kind of varnish paint, and that costs like 
everything. Besides, it takes an expert to put on 
white paint ; the darker the color, the less it 
shows if you don’t do it nicely; so I am just 
going to put on walnut-brown, very dark.” 

“Oh, Beth, that will be dingy!” 

“No, it won’t! Just you wait until you see it 
with the dainty paper I am going to put on the 
walls.” 

The floor was painted in stripes — two shades 
of brown. That floor had cost" Beth much 


OLD GOLD. 


69 


thought ; she wanted a carpet dreadfully, and had 
considered the question of a rag carpet ; but she 
knew that only long months of hard work and a 
considerable outlay of money would lead up to the 
accomplishment of that desire, hence her deter- 
mination to paint the floor. Here again she was 
met by John’s “You can never do that.” 

“Yes, I can. Look at what I have done 
already ! ” 

“Yes; but it will be very hard work to paint a 
floor.” 

Beth looked at him with a queer little smile. 

“ Say, Moses, did you expect an easy time 
when you went into this thing? Maybe you 
expected to ride out of Egypt in a palace car. 
Had they been running them in those days, I pre- 
sume Moses would have chartered a whole train 
of them — anyway, enough to have accommo- 
dated himself and Miriam and Aaron and their 
families.” 

Thus these two made the burden lighter for 
each other with merry talk, underlying which 
there was ever a deeper meaning, and a steadiness 
of purpose, and, upon John’s part, an unfailing 
trust in the great Leader who, he firmly believed, 
had called him to the work he had undertaken. 

The finished floor was exceedingly neat and 
attractive in its fresh paint, a line of gold divid- 
ing the shades of brown. 


70 


OLD GOLD. 


“That’s really nothing but yellow ochre, the 
cheapest stuff in the world,” said Beth, with a 
gleam in her eyes. “But it passes for old gold 
all the same. I consider that border, however, a 
stroke of genius.” 

“ How did you manage it ? ” 

“ Easily enough, with pasteboard patterns ; you 
observe it is only scallops turned different ways. 
It wasn’t very much to do, but it gives a finish to 
the work.” 

“I should say so,” was John’s expressive 
comment. 

“This is going to be the prettiest room in the 
neighborhood,” said Beth, musingly, “and will 
cost next to nothing. Things will match beauti- 
fully ; the chairs are dark, and so is the table you 
are going to mend, and the stand I am going to 
make out of a board and three broom-handles.” 

Of course, there were curtains at the windows, 
though of this part of her furnishings Beth had at 
one time almost despaired. They were not the 
traditional white muslin, looped back with rib- 
bons ; neither were they of cream-tinted cheese- 
cloth, with red or blue cambric trimmings, which 
material has almost crowded out the old-time 
muslin. It was Mrs. Parsons who came to the 
help of the puzzled young furnisher on the curtain 
question. Beth ran in to the colonel’s one morn- 
ing upon an errand, and, in the course of the 


OLD GOLD. 


7 1 


conversation that took place, even as she stood 
with one hand upon the door-knob, ready to go, 
she confided to her friend her perplexity about 
the curtains. 

“ I don’t want either white or light-colored 
curtains — they ought to be brown or old gold to 
go with the paper and paint ; but I suppose I shall 
bring up on cheese-cloth, that seems to be the 
only thing to do ; but I should like it so much 
better if the cheese-cloth were dark-colored.” 

“Why, child, I’ll tell you what to do. Get the 
cloth, and dye it to suit your fancy. There’s a 
new kind of dye that comes put up in packages 
all ready to use, with the directions printed on the 
package. It is very easy to color with it. I 
colored some carpet rags the other day a dull 
yellow, and I suppose that is what you mean by 
‘old gold.’ Beth, where do you get your ideas 
about things?” 

“Everywhere,” said the girl, brightly. “We 
have a lot of old agricultural papers that father 
used to take, and just the year before he left us 
he subscribed for a paper that offered a big 
dictionary if you subscribed for several years in 
advance, and the time hasn’t run out yet, so we 
have that, and I get out of it a good many ideas 
of what is going on in the world, and of how to 
do things. And then, after I read about things, I 
notice that some one is sure to speak of them, and 


72 


OLD GOLD. 


that fixes the ideas. I suppose you wondered 
how I, a country girl, who never went anywhere 
in all my life, happened to know that * old gold ’ 
is just now ‘the thing’?” 

“Yes, that was just what I was wondering.” 

“Well, I saw it in the paper, and I knew it was 
just what I ought to have for the curtains; but I 
had no hope of it, though I could not help dream- 
ing over it a little, and imagining how they would 
look.” 

“Well, child, you shall have ‘old gold,’ only I 
fear the sun will fade them.” 

“But John is going to rehang the blinds; we 
have hunted them up, and find that they are in 
very good condition except for hinges and fasten- 
ers. It is a great wonder that they were not all 
destroyed; for they have been used for chicken- 
coops, and to stop gaps in the fences, and I don’t 
know w f hat else.” 

Mrs. Parsons laughed as she said — “Well, some 
people like to find new and uncommon uses for 
things, but I always like to make things do their 
own legitimate work. But, Beth, I want to make 
a proposition to you, and you must not let your 
pride get the better of you. It is a little thing 
that I can do just as well as not, and I assure you 
to begin with that I shall not hesitate to receive a 
favor from you, if the occasion should arise, as I 
have no doubt it will. We are all more or less 


OLD GOLD. 


7 3 


dependent upon each other in this world, and you 
know, too, the Book says that we should bear one 
another’s burdens. Now I have laid away in the 
linen press, a pile of old, fine sheets ; I intended 
to use them for carpet rags, but since I began 
this silk rug I have decided not to make a carpet, 
this year, anyway. We can dye them, and you 
can have them ‘old gold,’ as you call it, or brown 
if you choose. Suppose you have them old gold 
with dark brown borders ? That will go prettily 
with your other furnishings. I will lend them to 
you, if you choose, and perhaps by the time I am 
ready to make a rag-carpet, you will be ready to 
put up something else. They are almost too 
good to cut up for carpet rags, and you may as 
well have a little benefit out of them first.” 

Long afterward Beth said — “I can never tell 
with what dismay I listened to Mrs. Parsons’ kind 
offer. As she talked about dyeing those curtains, 
I remembered a time when my mother undertook 
to color some carpet rags, and I could see those 
sheets hung up at the windows of my pretty 
room, all streaks and spots, and I was ready to 
cry with vexation for having mentioned my 
perplexity.” 

But Mrs. Parsons went on saying — “I can dye 
beautifully; I learned when I was a girl, and 
these dyes are so simple and easy we shall have 
no trouble. You just come up some morning, 


74 


OLD GOLD. 


and we will see what can be done. I tell you, 
Beth, this shall be our secret; we will not tell 
r anybody — oh, of course, your mother if you 
wish ; but the rest of the world may wonder while 
they admire.” 

And it was exactly what they did — the neigh- 
bors, I mean — they commented and praised the 
effect when those old-gold curtains, without a sin- 
gle streak or spot, were hung at the four windows 
of the Heckman parlor, swaying gracefully as the 
breezes of early summer were allowed to sweep 
through the room. 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


75 


CHAPTER VII. 

A NEW DEPARTURE. 


“ I will walk within my house with a perfect heart.” 

I T was while the work of putting “the other 
room” in order was going on that Stephen 
walked in one morning, saying — “I have left 
Stedman’s.” 

The only explanation he gave was that he and 
his employer did not agree. He settled down at 
home, working a little, visiting a great deal at the 
corner store, and grumbling at everything and 
everybody. Occasionally he appeared to take a 
little interest in Beth’s plans for making the 
house more comfortable and home -like, and even 
helped her with her broom-handles ; and the girl 
was so much encouraged that she said to John, 
one day — “Don’t you think Stephen is a little 
interested in our plan, after all?” 

“I don’t know; sometimes I think so; if it 


76 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


were not for the store, or saloon — I may as well 
call it that, for that is what it is. If it were not 
for that, I should not feel so discouraged about 
Stephen.” 

“Oh, John, it is not like you to get discouraged. 
Now I do not expect Stephen to turn right about 
and fall in with us all at once, as they do in 
books ; but I do believe that if we keep right 
on doing all we can to make home pleasant, we 
will win him over after a while. Now just as 
soon as we get settled, I should like to give a 
party.” 

Both laughed outright at her brother’s expres- 
sion of dismay. 

“Oh, I mean a little tea-party. I should like 
to ask Rob and Lizzie, Marne Howard and her 
brother ; she is a nice girl, and her brother is one 
of the saloon boys that Stephen goes with.” 

“But do you think it is right to encourage 
such fellows by associating with them ? ” 

“Encourage them in what ? ” 

“Why, in their ways — going to the saloon, 
playing cards, and all that.” 

“Why, no, I want to discourage them in such 
ways, by showing them that we can have good 
times at home.” 

“But mother says that the furniture became so 
banged up because the boys always act so rude 
when they come here.” 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


77 


“But they won’t be rude this time; mother will 
be in the parlor and at the tea-table, and I shall 
have several nice girls to help entertain them.” 

“But can we afford to give a party?” 

“I think so, such as I mean to have. Just a 
simple tea will not cost much, and we can better 
afford it than we can afford not to try to do 
something.” 

“All right ! If that is your scheme, go ahead. 
I did not know but your plan might embrace a 
caterer from the city, with a band of music.” 

“What nonsense!” Then they both laughed, 
and John went off to his work. Some way it was 
easy to laugh when he talked with Beth ; and he 
went on, either to himself or to the horse he was 
harnessing. 

“Now that girl has real sense. And she 
makes things look cheery, too. She is a good 
Aaron.” 

“ Stephen, I wish you would whittle to some 
purpose ! ” Beth said, one evening, when Stephen 
sat upon the door-step, idly whittling a pine stick. 

“ Do you want a wooden idol whittled out ? ” 
asked John, who was trying to mend a broken 
hoe-handle with a piece of wire. “I remember 
that the Israelites that went wandering up and 
down the land fell to worshiping idols. Better 
take care.” 

“Oh, she wants me to carve a Clytie or a 


78 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


Minerva, or something of the sort, to fill the 
niche in the drawing-room.” 

“You are both quite too nonsensical. What I 
want is very practical and very simple. I wish 
you would make me a pair of knitting-needles.” 

“Oh, is that all? How large do you want 
them ? ” 

“Eighteen inches long, and about as large as 
my little finger. Now don’t make a mistake and 
use your own finger for a measure! They must 
be made of some sort of hard, tough wood and 
very smooth.” 

“All right ! You shall have them right away. ” 

And now what a miser the girl became! Not 
a strip of cloth escaped her — black, white or 
colored ; all were carefully hoarded, and washed, 
pressed, sorted, and cut into strips, and as if by 
magic transformed into rugs, pleasing to the eye 
and soft to the feet. One was spread before the 
table and another in front of the couch. Beth 
and Stephen had contrived that couch ; he made 
the frame, upon which she had used some of her 
wonderful brown paint. The head-rest was the 
result of their joint effort of brain and hand, and 
was voted a complete triumph of inventive genius. 
Some old ticking, which was found stowed away 
in the attic, when cleansed and stuffed with hay, 
served for cushioning ; then came the question of 
a covering for this remarkable piece of upholstery. 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


7 9 


This was still an unsolved puzzle when Stephen 
thought to ask — “ What are you going to cover 
that thing with l ” 

“Nothing, until I get some money to pay for 
cloth to put on it. There is a kind of goods they 
call ‘ cretonne ’ ; I have never seen any of it, but 
I think from the description it will be the right 
thing. I suppose it is a kind of thick cotton 
print ; and if it comes in quiet patterns and colors, 
it will be just the thing.” 

“Indeed, you are very modest in your aspira- 
tions ! I supposed you would expect to have 
satin or velvet.” This Stephen said with what 
sounded very like a sneer ; and Beth thought sadly 
how little he cared, after all, for their plans and 
contrivances and economies. But she repented of 
this thought when, a day or two later, Stephen 
came home from the village, and tossing a parcel 
upon the table he said — “There, how will that 
answer for a covering to your divan ? ” 

Beth’s fingers very quickly undid the package, 
and as she caught sight of the contents, she 
exclaimed — “ How very pretty ! ” 

“ Do you like it ? ” The question was asked in 
a relieved tone. “I thought it was dreadfully 
sombre, like a funeral, almost ; but I concluded 
you were fixing up for something mournful with 
all that black paint, so I ventured to bring this 
along.” 


8o 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


It was a piece of cretonne of quiet tint and 
delicate pattern ; Beth herself could not have 
chosen anything more to her taste, and, to her 
further delight, the measure was ample, leaving 
enough for a pair of box ottomans. 

“I suppose you won’t let a fellow bring any- 
body over for an evening, now you are fixed up so 
fine?” 

“ Oh, yes, indeed ! What do you suppose I 
have been doing all this for ? I wanted you and 
John to have a place to ask company into, as well 
as a pleasant sitting-room for our home evenings.” 

“It makes the rest of the old house seem more 
forlorn than ever,” remarked Stephen. 

“I know it,” returned Beth, with a sigh; “but 
I cannot do any more at present ; if mother will 
let me pick berries for Mr. Kelly, perhaps I can 
earn money enough to fix up one or two rooms.” 

“Beth, don’t you spend any of your money for 
yourself? ” 

“For myself? What do you mean ? ” 

“Why, for candies and gimcracks, such as other 
girls have.” 

“No! I cannot remember when I spent any 
money for candies ; and I should feel real mean to 
spend anything for myself that was not absolutely 
necessary, when so many things are needed in the 
house.” 

I think that Stephen Heckman was thoroughly 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


8 I 


ashamed of himself as he contrasted Beth’s unsel- 
fishness with his own idle and spendthrift ways. 
He could not help remembering that the few 
yards of cotton goods which he had furnished for 
the covering of the couch was his only contribu- 
tion to the needs or comfort of the family out of 
what might be considered as his own earnings, 
and this looked very small to him beside Beth’s 
sacrifices. He had always argued that any money 
which he might earn away from home was his 
own to do what he pleased with, and he never 
thought of using it for the benefit of the family. 
He did not seem to care about having any further 
conversation with his sister just then, and he 
walked off, trying to rid himself of the unpleasant 
train of thought which her words had started. 
He could not help reflecting that, had he been 
half as self-sacrificing as she had shown herself, 
things might have been much more comfortable 
at home. Presently his mood changed, and he 
relapsed into his habitual careless and reckless 
humor. “Who cares ? ” he said. “She does what 
pleases her, and I do what pleases me; that’s fair 
enough, I’m sure — ought to satisfy anybody’s 
conscience.” Then he went on to his usual 
haunt and parted with his last dollar. 

At length everything was done, and Beth was 
in full tide of talk over her plans for a tea-party. 
Mrs. Heckman objected that they had not dishes 


82 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


enough to serve company. Beth was dismayed; 
she had not thought of that. John laughingly 
said — “Beth thinks that a parlor is all that we 
need to make life sweet.” A little later, he 
said — “Beth, I was intending to buy a birthday 
gift for you, but I have been thinking that per- 
haps you would rather have a few dishes than 
what I was going to get, so here is the money. 
You can get what you choose.” 

Never was any housekeeper more delighted 
with a set of the finest Dresden china than was 
this young girl with the dozen cheap earthen 
plates and half a dozen cups, with as many plain 
tumblers. By various contrivances and sacrifices, 
all other hindrances were overcome. The orig- 
inal list of guests included but seven young peo- 
ple of the neighborhood ; but Stephen asked that 
two others, Jack Swan and Dean Wilson, be 
added to the number. Mrs. Heckman shook 
her head over these two names ; but Beth 
said — 

“Mother, we’ll just have to have them or give 
up the whole thing; and I guess it will be all 
right, with so many of us to keep things toned 
down. If only they will leave their cards at 
home for that evening ; you know they are the 
two of Stephen’s friends who always play when 
they come here, and Jack Swan always has to 
have his glass of cider. If only we can manage 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 83 

to keep these things out — you know John never 
stays in the room with cards or cider ! ” 

“Yes, dear, I know; but do not worry, just 
hope for the best.” Beth remembered afterward 
that she thought in the midst of her perplexity 
how unusual it was for her mother to speak hope-, 
fully ; it was generally the daughter who had to 
cheer and encourage. Mrs. Heckman was not 
considered a very positive woman. It had been 
so seldom in these later years that she had 
asserted herself, that neither her neighbors nor 
her children realized the strength that lay behind 
her usual passive demeanor. Beth might have 
remembered a very few times when her mother 
had declared — “This thing shall not be”; but 
these occasions had been rare indeed, and had 
cost the woman an almost superhuman effort. 
John had said very little about the card-playing or 
about the cider which Stephen and his associates 
drank. Indeed, there had been much less of it 
since he came home ; for, with all his sneering at 
John’s ways and opinions, Stephen felt rebuked 
and uncomfortable in his presence, and had less 
often asked the boys in for a frolic. The mother, 
appreciating the efforts that John and Beth were 
making to bring the family up out of their pov- 
erty, felt that the time had come for her to take a 
different stand in her own home. So it was that, 
in the silence of the night-time, after a long and 


8 4 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


painful struggle with her timidity and her estab- 
lished habit of yielding, she resolved that her 
home should not be, as it too often had been, a 
place of wild revelry. In her distress she cried 
out — “Father in heaven, forgive me! In my 
anxiety to keep my boys at home, I have allowed 
them to do things the right of which I questioned, 
and I have gained nothing, but have lost much.” 

She said nothing of her resolve, not even when 
Beth said again and again — “I do so hope noth- 
ing will happen to spoil it all.” 

I should like to tell you all about that supper; 
but I may not risk turning this story into a cook- 
book, so I will only hint at the fluffy biscuit and 
the delicious coffee, and say that though every- 
thing was very plain and simple, although there 
was only one kind of cake and no ices or confec- 
tionery, yet everything was so fresh and nice, and 
so daintily served, that it seemed really an elegant 
entertainment. 

“Beth Heckman can do the most with next to 
nothing ! ” Marne Howard whispered this to the 
young lady by her side at the tea-table. “Now 
that centre-piece is nothing in the world but 
chick-weed and cinnamon roses ; but it is every 
bit as pretty as some I’ve seen from the florist’s. 
I tell you, she is a genius ! ” 

“Yes, I think she is a splendid girl. That 
John is a nice fellow.” 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 8 5 

“Yes, though he is not so good-looking as 
Stephen.” 

“You know the old saying?” 

“ What — ‘ Handsome is that handsome does ’ ? ” 
asked Marne. “Yes.” 

“The boys of this neighborhood can none of 
them lay any claim to great beauty on that princi- 
ple. Just wait until this new-comer has been 
here a year or two. He will be like all the rest.” 

Marne sighed as she spoke ; perhaps she was 
thinking of her own brother, a bright young 
fellow who, within the last year or two, had 
seemed to be going down-hill. This bit of con- 
versation had been carried on under cover of 
much talk and laughter on the part of others ; but 
now there was a lull in the hilarity, and the two 
girls ceased their private chat and joined in the 
general conversation. 

In the lingering twilight of the summer even- 
ing they left the tea-table and repaired to the 
parlor. Mrs. Heckman, going softly about the 
kitchen doing up the work, smiled as she had not 
done in years, as she listened to the cheerful 
voices that floated out to her through the half- 
open doors. Presently, as she was putting the 
finishing touches to her work, Stephen came into 
the dining-room with Jack Swan, Dean Wilson 
and young Howard. 

“What is it? Do you wish for anything, 


86 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


Stephen?” Her tones were calm and even; 
but, had Stephen looked at his mother, he would 
have seen an unusual brilliancy in her eyes and a 
flush upon her cheeks. 

“ Nothing but a light and the use of the table. 
We thought we would withdraw from the crowd 
and have a little game by ourselves,” at the same 
time producing a pack of cards. 

“Oh, Stephen, I wouldn’t to-night.” 

“ Why not, I should like to ask ? ” 

Mrs. Heckman thought of saying that Beth 
might not like it, as it was her company; but she 
straightway put aside the idea of letting it rest 
upon her daughter’s shoulders, and determined 
to adhere to her resolution to take a stand, so she 
said — “I would much rather you would not play.” 

“Well! Seems to me this is a new wrinkle. 
I suppose Lady Beth or my pious brother has put 
down the law ; but I assure you ” — 

“Stephen!” Something in the mother’s voice 
or manner silenced the young man, and she went 
on — “Perhaps I ought to have spoken before of 
a resolution I have made ; but I hoped that there 
* might be no occasion for speaking. I have 
yielded to your wishes too long in this matter. I 
ought to have taken the stand before ; but for the 
future, I most earnestly hope that neither child 
nor guest will ask to be allowed to play cards in 
my house. I owe your friends an apology.” 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


87 


“Mrs. Heckman, we are the ones to apologize,” 
interrupted Dean Wilson. “If I had thought of 
your having any objections, I would not have pro- 
posed this, for I was the one to propose it. I am 
very sorry.” 

Stephen suddenly made a move, and taking his 
hat, he said — “Come on, boys! Let’s go where 
we can do what we like without interference.” 
And he went out of the house, followed by Jack 
Swan. Young Howard slipped back to the com- 
pany in the other room. Dean stopped a moment 
to assure Mrs. Heckman that he would not have 
thought of going contrary to her wishes in the 
matter. While he still stood talking with her, 
Stephen came back to the side-door, and said — 
“Come on, Dean.” 

“No, I think I’ll stay here. You know I was 
invited to spend the evening, and I am going to 
do it.” 

Finding his persuasions of no avail, Stephen 
took himself off, and Dean returned to the parlor 
with Mrs. Heckman. Beth had been a little 
uneasy at the withdrawal of the four young men, 
and now looked up wonderingly ; but she had no 
suspicion of the scene which had just taken place, 
and so her evening was not spoiled. 

Dean Wilson was one of those young men of 
whom we are ever thinking in the words of the 
old refrain — “It might have been”; though he 


88 


A NEW DEPARTURE. 


was still young enough for it to be said— “It 
might be.” There were possibilities in the young 
man, yet he was recklessly throwing them away. 
What cared he for possibilities, so long as there 
were before him certainties or even probabilities 
of a “good time”? He had a certain native 
grace and courtesy which, among the people of 
the neighborhood, passed for less than its worth ; 
indeed, so lightly was the gift held that the young 
fellow had grown chary of its use, and often 
affected a roughness which was foreign to his 
nature. Like Stephen Heckman, he had con- 
siderable intellectual power which he was letting 
run to waste ; he was more industrious than 
Stephen, perhaps only because he was still under 
the control of his father, in that respect ; but he 
was counted throughout the vicinity as a wild, 
reckless young fellow. And this was the young 
man who presently left Mrs. Heckman’s side, and 
joining the group on the door-step, seated himself 
beside her bright young daughter. And with a 
sudden apprehension at her heart, the mother 
wondered if, after all, she might not have made a 
mistake in yielding to Stephen’s request, that 
Dean Wilson be among their invited guests. 


THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 


89 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 

“ Thou shalt make no covenant with them.” 

S TEPHEN was sauntering along the road 
toward the Corners when he met his brother 
Frank trundling a cart. 

“Say, Frank, don’t you want to go with me?” 
“Where ? ” 

“Just down here to the Corner.” 

“Are you going to Howland’s?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Then I can’t go,” said Frank. 

“I’d like to know why you can’t ? ” 

“ Because mother does not like to have me go 
there.” 

“But you have just been there after groceries.” 
“ But mother always tells me not to 'stay when 
I go there after things.” 

“That’s all right when you are alone, but you 


90 THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 

can go with me. There’s to be a show there 
to-night and some music — a fellow with a banjo; 
you never heard a banjo, did you?” 

The little fellow hesitated. 

“Come along,” urged Stephen. 

“Wait until I go and ask mother.” 

“Nonsense! Come along! I can’t wait all 
night. The music will be over.” 

“ But I must take these things home first.” 

“Well, you just slip in, and put them on the 
kitchen table and run right back ; don’t say a 
word to anybody, and they will think you have 
gone out to play, and we will get back before they 
will miss you. Hurry up, now.” 

It seemed as though Satan had set himself to 
entrap the boy thus early, and had put his own 
brother to the work; but He who guards the 
lambs of the flock was watchful, too. Stephen 
grew tired of waiting, and went on, saying — 

“I might have known that the little dunce 
would not know how to manage it. He is a 
cute little chap sometimes, and I thought he 
might as well have some fun ; but I suppose John 
has spoiled it for this time.” 

The way the plan came to naught was this : 
Beth’s friend Lizzie had halted at the gate in a 
carriage, and was saying — 

“ Oh, Beth, I am so sorry ! I forgot that book 
I promised to bring up ; I wanted you to read it, 


THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 9 1 

and I must send it back to the library in a day or 
two.” 

“Never mind,” said Beth, consolingly. 

“I do mind. But here’s Frank. Can’t he ride 
down with me now, and run back with the book? 
There will be time before dark.” 

There was no help for it. And indeed, the 
prospect of a ride was quite a recompense for the 
loss of the show, banjo and all. However, he 
hesitated a little, at which Beth wondered, and 
after he came back she thought to ask — “Frank, 
didn’t you want to go down with Lizzie to-night ? 
I thought you acted as though you didn’t quite 
like the plan.” 

“Yes, I wanted to go, only” — 

“ Only what ? ” 

“Stevie was waiting for me.” 

Then Beth drew out the whole story, how 
Stephen had coaxed him, and how he was going 
to slip away without telling anybody of his 
intention. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” exclaimed Beth, “ I wish that 
saloon would burn up or sink, or something.” 

It was a hard task set that mother to explain to 
one boy why he might not go where the elder boy 
wished to take him, without destroying the little 
fellow’s confidence in his brother, and this she 
dreaded to do; and then Frank said — 

“But, mother, I go there very often for things. 


92 THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 

and sometimes I have to wait a long time ; I 
don’t see why it would be any worse to wait just 
because I wanted to than to wait because I had 
to. If I got drowned on purpose, or because I 
fell in the water and couldn’t get out, I’d be dead 
all the same, wouldn’t I ? ” 

She knew not just what to say — what she did 
say was — 

“Dear child, it is hard for you to understand 
things now ; but you must try to believe that 
mother knows best what is right, and remember 
to obey her.” 

When Frank had gone to bed, John asked — 

“ How long has there been this store, or saloon, 
or whatever it may be called, here on the 
Hill?” 

“I don’t remember just when he began to sell 
liquors. Mr. Howland opened a store about five 
years ago, and it really seemed quite a conven- 
ience, especially for people who have no horse ; 
at this distance from the village it is often diffi- 
cult to get what is needed, and the place is handy 
for the people who bring their milk to the 
factory.” 

“ I can easily understand that. It is certainly 
very convenient to have a store here.” 

“At first he kept only groceries and provi- 
sions ; after awhile he sold new cider, then lemon 
beer and ginger pop; then he took out a beer 


THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 93 

license, and for two years he has sold whiskey 
freely.” 

“ And you always trade there ? ” 

“Yes. You know at first we went there 
because it was handy for us, and afterward, when 
he took out a license, Joe and Stephen said it 
would offend Mr. Howland if we did not trade 
there ; so we kept on, and it seemed as if we were 
obliged to, it being as I say, so difficult to get 
things from the village.” 

“ Mother, I wish we need not buy anything 
there ; I will never enter a place where liquor is 
sold if I can avoid it.” 

“ I know it is a bad place ; I believe it has 
done more to ruin the boys of this neighborhood 
than anything else. Boys like to be together, and 
it was a handy place to drop into ; Mr. Howland 
was always pleasant and made every one welcome, 
and one need not drink if he did go there to 
spend his evenings with the rest.” 

“But I suppose the most of them get to drink - 1 
ing after awhile ? ” 

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

John’s temperance principles had grown and 
strengthened during the years that he was under, 
his uncle’s care and training, and he was stanch 
and true and consistent. Neither were these char-; 
acteristics confined to the temperance question . 1 
One of his uncle’s professional friends offered 


94 


THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 


him a ticket to a circus that was accompanied by 
the collection of animals, so often the net spread 
for unwary feet. Upon being pressed for the 
reason of his polite refusal of the intended kind- 
ness, he said that he never attended entertain- 
ments of that character. 

“But,” said his friend, “it is a fine show of 
animals, and you want to see them.” 

“Not if I have to see them in connection with 
a circus.” 

“But you will miss them entirely then, for 
the animals always accompany a show of that 
character.” 

“Well, I will wait, and sometime I may be able 
to visit the Zoological Gardens.” 

“But that will involve an expensive journey.” 

“Yes, sir; I know that. But Uncle John has 
often told me that consistency is sometimes 
expensive.” 

Having grown up with this idea that no price 
is too great to pay for a clear conscience, and that 
to be free from complicity with evil and to be 
consistent is worth the price, cost what it may, it 
was no wonder that John Heckman was not will- 
ing to patronize Howland’s saloon grocery, though 
the carrying out of the opposite course might be 
attended with great inconvenience. 

“ I don’t want to go there any more than you 
do,” said Beth, as they talked it over. “But I do 


THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 95 

not see how you are going to manage. If we had 
a buggy it would be different ; but situated as we 
are, I don’t see how we can manage it.” 

“ We’ll have to ! Moses would never have got 
away in the world if he had been all the time say- 
ing — ‘I don’t see how we are going to manage.' 
If the Lord says — ‘ Have nothing to do with 
this thing’ — and you and I believe He does — it 
isn’t my business to make a way in the desert. 
We must just follow the directions as they fol- 
lowed the pillar and the cloud.” 

“John, how in the world did you ever learn so 
much Bible ? ” 

“Just as we learn anything — by studying it. 
You see it was like this: The stories of those old 
roc s of Bible times interested and fascinated 
; , and I used to talk them over with Uncle 
hn, and he would say that was like such and 
such a circumstance or situation in our life ; and 
I suppose that is where I caught the trick of fit- 
ting everything to our own affairs, which seems so 
queer to you. But it makes the Bible more real, 
more as if it belonged to us and our time ; it fits 
right into our lives, don’t you see ? ” 

“Yes, I see.” 

“I remember a sermon which Mr. Williams 
preached ; Mr. Williams was our pastor, you 
know. He said that whenever we made a league 
with an evil because it was convenient, we were 


9 6 THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 

like the Israelites when, instead of driving out 
the kings, they conquered them and made them 
pay tribute. Now, don’t you see, if we go to 
Howland’s because it is convenient, we make evil 
tributary to us and the tribute we take is ‘our 
convenience ’ ? ” 

“Well, that is so. But I never thought about 
it that way, and I don’t believe mother ever did. 
The most I thought about it was that I hated to 
go there because there are always so many hang- 
ing about, and then I knew it was a bad place for 
Stephen, and I was afraid that Frank would get 
to going there, too.” 

“I don’t see how the people around the Hill 
endure to have liquor sold right here in the 
neighborhood.” 

“Oh, Howland pays a heavy tribute to others 
as well as to us ! ” returned Beth, quickly, show- 
ing that she had caught the thought. 

“John.” This after a long silence. 

“Well?” 

“Wouldn’t it be a grand thing if we could do 
something to stop liquor-selling on West Hill?” 

“Yes, but we couldn’t.” 

“John Heckman! Are you asleep or crazy?” 

“Neither, I think. Why?” 

“Because something must be the matter when 
you say a thing that ought to be done can’t be 
done.” 


THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 9 7 

“But, Beth, I really don’t see much chance of 
success in fighting this evil. Uncle used to say 
that it is so deeply intrenched in the laws and in 
the hearts of the people, that a mighty army will 
be required to overthrow it, and what are you and 
I against it ? ” 

“We haven’t got to fight the whole evil, only 
this little bit of the enemy’s army. Isn’t there 
something in the Bible to fit in there, something 
about every man’s work in front of his own 
house ? ” 

“‘Every one over against his house.’ But, 
Beth, you know there is a liquor league, and when 
one little country saloon is attacked, they put 
their whole force, if needed, to crush out the 
effort.” 

“Yes, I know that.” There was a whole vol- 
ume of doubt in her tone, at which her brother 
wondered ; but as she did not say anything more, 
he returned to his reading. She sat* for a long 
time with her hands folded in her lap, and her 
eyes wearing that far-away look ; then she spoke 
again — 

“John.” 

He turned toward her, laying down his paper at 
once, and waited. 

“You remember when they blew up Hell Gate, 
the match was applied by the hand of a little 
girl?” 


98 THE QUESTION OF TRIBUTE. 

“Yes; I remember reading about it.” 

“And it blew up all the same, you remember?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I don’t suppose we could blow up the 
saloon, but we might be the ones to touch it off. 
See ? ” 

“No, I don’t see. In the case of Hell Gate, 
the work was all done — the tunnel dug out, 
charges of dynamite and gunpowder put in, wires 
laid — then the little girl touched the key of the 
battery and off it went.” 

“Just so! Do you suppose the little girl knew 
all that had been done? I think I have heard 
that she was a very little girl, just a baby; but 
she did just what her father told her to do. Now 
how do you know but the time to touch off the 
moral battery that is to blow up the saloon is 
very near? How do you know but the Lord has 
everything ready? Seems to me, that if I were 
on such intimate terms with Him as you are, I 
would ask Him about it, and keep watch and 
stand ready to touch it off if He said the word.” 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


99 


CHAPTER IX. 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


“ Behold these three years I come seeking fruit.” 



HAT Stephen Heckman was a sore trial to 


a. his family must be evident to every one 
who has followed our chronicle thus far. The 
dreadful uncertainty as to Joe’s whereabouts and 
welfare was not more trying than the knowledge 
of the course this second son was pursuing. 
Beth lost all patience, while John was puzzled and 
distressed, and sometimes greatly annoyed and 
vexed. While he worked most steadily, Stephen 
did next to nothing upon the farm, yet was con- 
tinually thwarting John’s plans and asserting his 
right, as the elder brother, to manage their 
affairs. It was often difficult, and sometimes im- 
possible, to prevent him from spending the little 
money that was coming in, but more and more 
Mrs. Heckman was asserting herself and taking 


IOO 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


her place as the head of her family. How could 
she do otherwise, with John and Beth continually 
referring to her and paying her the deference and 
honor which was her due, and which she had 
never received from the older boys? Yet the 
poor mother was always ready with excuses when- 
ever Beth complained of Stephen. She would 
say — 

“But you know, Elizabeth, that Stephen would 
be different if he could have a chance to do some- 
thing that he has a taste for. It is being obliged 
to give up his studies and being tied down to the 
farm, which he hates, that has made him so reck- 
less. If we could only get along without him, 
and he could get into some other business, I 
think he would do better.” 

“But, mother, he tried it in the spring, and 
here he is back again doing nothing.” 

“But he did not get a good place, and the work 
was not at all congenial.” 

“ I suppose he thinks that the work John and I 
do is congenial ! If I gave up for that reason, I 
should sit with folded hands the most of the 
time.” 

“Really, Elizabeth, I think you are too hard 
upon your brother. He is kind-hearted. He 
told me the other day that if he had stayed at 
Stedman’s, he intended to have brought home 
part of his earnings.” 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


IOI 


“He might have brought home his money, but 
he would have been sure to spend it at How- 
land’s,” said Beth, bitterly. 

Listening to such conversation as this between 
his mother and sister led John to make a resolve. 
If this were true ; if, as his mother said, Ste- 
phen’s disappointment had made him bitter and 
reckless ; if his distaste for farm life had so 
nearly ruined him, so crushed out his ambition, 
could not something be done to change all this? 
Now that this strong younger brother was there 
to put a shoulder to the wheel, why should not 
Stephen strike out for himself, if he wished to do 
so? He was not yet twenty years old. What 
was to hinder him from working his way through 
college as many others have done? True, three 
years of careless living had undone much of the 
work of his school days, and he had formed habits 
which it would be hard to shove off. In his 
present state of mind, it was hardly possible that 
he would accept release from the responsibilities 
of the farm if it were offered him. Then again, 
if he were to carry his idle and spendthrift ways, 
his drinking and gambling habits, into another 
sphere of life, he could not help making a failure 
of it. John saw all this, and yet, after much 
thought and much taking of counsel with the 
Great Leader, he determined to watch his oppor- 
tunity and speak to Stephen. One afternoon, 


102 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


when they were at work together, Stephen him* 
self opened the way by saying — 

“John, you do this as if you liked it.” 

“Well, I don’t — and I do.” Then, as Ste- 
phen looked for an explanation — “Well, I don’t 
like it in itself, but there are certain results to be 
worked out which I do like.” 

“You have more faith in the results than I 
have,” replied Stephen, relapsing into moodiness. 
“ I feel as if a whole mountain lay on top of 
everything we undertake to do. It was a great 
mistake, my going to school just long enough to 
get a taste for something besides farming.” 

“Stephen,” began John, after a little pause, “I 
want to talk to you about something.” 

“Fire away! You generally aim straight, and 
I suppose I’ll get knocked over ; but I’m flat, any 
way.” 

“I heard mother saying, the other day, that 
you were a first-rate scholar when you left 
school.” 

John stood in what was an unusual position for 
him, leaning upon his hoe, while Stephen was 
striking somewhat random blows with the one he 
held. John did not know what to say next. 
There were two reasons why it was hard to say 
what he meant to. One reason was, it would be 
to put still further away from him all hope or 
thought of a college course for himself, and the 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


103 


other reason was, it was not easy to talk with this 
brother. He was such an uncertain individual, 
one never knew in what spirit his remarks would 
be met. He waited now to see what encourage- 
ment he might receive to go on. At length Ste- 
phen assumed a position similar to his own, and 
the two stood looking at each other. 

“Well, is that all you have to say?” 

“And she said you were all ready for college.” 

“ Humph ! I guess those are phrases that 
mother has got up for use when she wants to 
praise her boys. I heard her say the same thing 
of you the other day. Well, old fellow, I suppose 
we will go about the same time. There seems to 
be a fine opening for us ; though, on the whole, I 
think I will take a trip to the moon instead; I 
could do one as easily as the other.” 

“ Stephen, I have something to say. Though I 
am slow of speech, nevertheless it may be worth 
your hearing.” 

“All right, go ahead,” and Stephen assumed an 
air of mock seriousness and attention. 

“ I want to ask a question or two ” — 

“ Oh, you want information ! I fancied you 
had some to impart.” 

“Perhaps I may have after I get a little more 
to put with what I have already.” 

“ Going to make a mixture ? Don’t give me a 
problem in allegation; I never liked that rule. 


104 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


They understand it pretty well at Howland’s, 
though.” 

“I wanted to ask how you expected to get 
through college if Joe had stayed on at home and 
you could have kept on at school. Were things 
going on so well that you expected mother to pay 
your bills ? ” 

“Well, I wonder, I do wonder if you think I 
am the one who has done all the running be- 
hind here. That’s complimentary ; pay my way ! 
Mother pay my way with Joe managing things! 
Not much! I expected to work my way through, 
and I could have done it. A self-made man was 
what I meant to be. I tell you, John — no, I 
won’t tell you anything. I don’t want to talk 
about it.” 

“But I do. Now, if three years ago you 
thought you could work your way through, why 
can’t you do it now?” 

“Are you crazy? I look like a college chap, 
don’t I? Come now, don’t I?” 

“Not exactly; but so long as you are not one 
as yet, I do not see what your looking like one 
or not looking like one has to do with the ques- 
tion. And I ask again, Why not start right off 
now and do what you intended to do three years 
ago, when your plans were broken off by Joe’s 
going away ? ” 

“Now, John Heckman, you do not know what 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


105 


you are talking about. In the first place, if I 
wanted to do it ever so much I could not.” 

“Why not?” The question was put quietly, 
but in a tone that expressed great doubt of the 
truth of the last statement, and Stephen became 
convinced that, crazy or not, John was honest 
and was waiting for an honest answer. 

“In the first place, three years ago I could 
have commanded a good position where I might 
have earned enough to pay my way ; but who 
wants a shabby loafer like me ? Oh, I know it ! 
I am a loafer; that is what they call me. And 
now I’ll tell you the plain truth. I expect to 
loaf away the rest of my life. On the whole, I 
rather like it.” 

“Stephen, I wish you would not talk so. You 
could soon fit yourself for any position you 
choose.” 

“It isn’t worth while. There’s three years 
lost, and I’m twenty years old. It is too late to 
do anything if I wanted to.” 

“And in five years you will be twenty-five 
years old, whether you ‘loaf’ away the time, as 
you say you expect to, or whether you turn about 
and make something of yourself. Time won’t stop 
for you in either case. And it seems to me that 
what you are at twenty-five depends upon your- 
self and the use you make of the years between 
now and then. I have read that every man is 


106 STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 

the architect of his own fortunes, and I guess it 
is true. But, Stephen, I think you are building 
your fortune upon a shaky foundation ” — 

“ Quite a sermon, I declare ! ” was the bitter, 
sarcastic interruption. “But I don’t want to hear 
any more.” 

Stephen’s mood had changed from the good- 
naturedly-reckless to one of bitter anger. 

“I did not mean it for a sermon,” was the 
response, in the same quiet manner to which John 
had held himself throughout the conversation. 
“I only wanted to tell you that if you thought 
you could do better for yourself by going back to 
your studies and working through a course of 
study, I could manage alone, and maybe by and 
by we could help you some.” 

If Stephen could have known what it cost his 
brother to say that ! But he was too angry to 
see the self-sacrifice embodied in that remark, or 
to understand the bitterness of John’s Marah ; 
and even if he had not been angry, I think that at 
that period he was too selfish to have understood it. 
If he had thought of a Marah at all, it would have 
been his rather than another’s. 

He threw down his hoe, and said fiercely — “I 
see your scheme — right through it! I am not a 
fool, if I am a loafer It is a plan to get rid of 
me. You can kick me out any time without 
getting up schemes that sound brotherly and 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. IO/ 

self-denying and all that. You need not trouble 
your head with thinking out plans for my benefit ; 
you might overdo and have brain fever. I would 
have gone long ago, only some way I cling to 
mother. She felt so badly about Joe’s going off 
that I fancy she would cry a little over me. But 
I may come up missing some fine morning. The 
fact is, you and Beth manage mother about as 
you like, and I do not suppose she would miss me 
very much, after all.” 

“Stephen!” The tone was one of distress. 
“Why will you misunderstand?” 

“ Oh, I understand ! I am not so thick-headed 
as not to be able to take a hint. And now, if 
you are through with your suggestions, I’ll be off. 
Don’t bother your head with any more philan- 
thropic schemes for my benefit. Better turn 
your attention to the heathen.” 

John was more discouraged and sorrowful than 
ever before. He had blundered sadly, having 
failed to put the matter before Stephen in the 
light he meant to. Perhaps it would have been 
better had he persuaded his mother to talk with 
Stephen. Indeed, now that he thought it over, 
he was sure that would have been the wiser plan. 
He being the younger brother, naturally the elder 
would resent anything that might be construed 
into interference or dictation. Yet he had only 
done what he thought he ought to do. Why had 


108 


STEPHEN A CUMBERER. 


he so miserably failed? In the dark days that 
followed closely upon this hour John often won- 
dered how the Lord was going to use this mis- 
take. It did not seem to him possible that it 
could work out any good to any one; yet there 
was the promise. 

Stephen went directly to the stable, led out and 
saddled one of the horses, and, mounting, rode 
away — rode as if for life; and I think he almost 
wished he were riding out of life. 


John’s marah. 


109 


CHAPTER X. 


John’s marah. 


“ They could not drink of the waters of Marah.” 

LMOST beside himself with rage, Stephen 



urged his horse forward. Alternately he 
set his teeth and raged inwardly, or broke sud- 
denly into wild, audible ravings. He raved at 
John, at Beth, at Joe, at fate, at everything and 
everybody excepting Stephen Heckman. In his 
way of putting it that young man was a most 
cruelly treated individual. If he were not all that 
he ought to be, it was through no fault of his 
own ; circumstances had made him what he was ; 
had he been given half a chance, he might have 
been somebody; but it was too late now. The 
absurdity of the thought that at twenty it was too 
late to turn about and make a man of himself did 
not occur to him. 

He rode on for several miles at breakneck 
speed, unmindful of his weary horse. At length, 


no John’s marah. 

the strength of his passion having spent itself, 
he turned homeward, riding more slowly. He 
seemed in deep thought, as if he were making 
up his mind what to do ; and presently he said 
through his teeth — “I’ll do it. I’ll cut loose 
from them all this very night ! They may just get 
along the best way they can, and I will take care 
of myself ! I shall not run away ; but I will go 
in and tell mother that I am going, and I’ll go!” 
It might have been a tender thought of his 
mother that caused him to waver in his determ- 
ination, but I think it was the recollection of the 
fact that he had no money, that settled the mat- 
ter, for he was not quite ready to take up the role 
of a “tramp.” And after another brief period of 
silence he struck his horse into a gallop, saying 
with even more determination than before — “I’ll 
not go. I will stay at home and hold on to my 
rights. I will let John and Beth know that I am 
master, and they will have to do as I say.” 

How it happened he could never tell ; old 
Prince was generally surefooted, yet some way he 
suddenly stumbled and fell, carrying his rider 
with him. Stephen was conscious of a quick, 
sharp agony, then — how long afterward he did 
not realize — he felt himself lifted, and heard 
voices that sounded as though they came from 
a great way off ; it seemed like words spoken 
through a tube. 


John’s marah. 


ii i 


“ Carefully. I think this leg is broken.” 

“He is coming to. There! He has fainted 
again.” 

A neighbor had seen the fall, and, summoning 
aid, sent messengers to tell the family and bring a 
physician. In the gathering twilight they car- 
ried him home. They thought he was uncon- 
scious, as indeed he was the most of the time, 
and they were not very cautious in their remarks. 
Stephen heard the low question of one who came 
up later — 

“ Had he been drinking? ” and the reply — 

“ I do not know ; I have not detected any odor 
of liquor ; but if he had been, the fall has sobered 
him, I reckon.” 

Stephen remembered that question long ; in the 
weary weeks that followed, it came back to him 
again and again, and his cheeks would flush with 
shame just at the memory. Was this, then, the 
reputation he had made for himself? Well, it 
was only another evidence that he was right in 
his belief that it was too late to make anything 
out of his life. He had gone too far on the down- 
hill road to think of turning back now. He never 
once acknowledged that it was of his own will that 
he had taken this downward course; he always 
argued that he had been dragged down by 
circumstances. 

The physician who came in response to the 


1 12 


John’s marah. 


sudden summons found a broken leg and a few 
bruises, but no serious internal injury. 

“ Young man,” he said, “you may be thankful 
that you got off as well as you did.” 

“ I don’t know who I am to thank ! ” growled 
Stephen. 

“ Well, some people thank the Lord for favors ; 
but I suppose a fellow of your caliber thanks 
himself that he had the skill to fall and break his 
leg without doing worse. Now if I get you out 
of this, you don’t want to go racing around the 
country like mad.” 

Poor Mrs. Heckman thought that her cup of 
sorrow was full to overflowing. It was hard that 
with all their struggle to get ahead, this calamity 
should come upon them. Added to the anxiety 
as to the result of the accident was the trouble- 
some thought of the doctor’s bill and other neces- 
sary expenses — besides, the garden which Beth 
had undertaken to cultivate, and the berries which 
were put out in the spring, must be neglected — 
for the care of the invalid was the first duty, and 
a very trying invalid he proved to be. Altogether 
Mrs. Heckman felt that the burden was indeed a 
very heavy one. 

When John said — “Oh, mother, don’t feel so; 
some good must come out of it,” she responded in 
the midst of her moaning — 

“If I could see any possible good to come of it 


John’s marah. 


*13 

I would not complain, but it seemed as though we 
had all we could bear up under before.” 

Another time she said — “If you had only 
been more careful about making Stephen angry 
— it has only brought trouble upon us all, and 
laid an additional burden upon your own shoul- 
ders, and no possible good has been accomplished 
by your talking to him.” 

“I am not sure of that. Maybe Stephen will 
come to see things differently.” 

“I have no hope of that. You have not heard 
him talk ; he is more bitter and rebellious than 
ever, and more set against you and Beth. Poor 
Beth is quite worn out trying to please him.” 

“ But you know he is suffering now, and hardly 
knows what he is saying; let us be hopeful.” 

“I am glad you can be hopeful, I cannot; it is 
just a dark cloud without any bright lining.” 

As the suffering became less intense, Stephen 
began asking for something to read. He wanted 
a book from his room. 

“I don’t suppose it will hurt you to bring it to 
me ; if you are afraid of contamination, you might 
take a pair of tongs.” 

“ Why, is it greasy and dog-eared ? ” asked Beth, 
with a cheery smile. 

“No, it is new; but I suppose you and John 
are too fine and high-toned to read dime novels.” 

“Oh, that is it! Well, suppose we wait until 


John’s marah. 


i 14 

the doctor comes ; and if he says so, I will bring 
it without the tongs.” 

But the doctor peremptorily forbade any read- 
ing by the invalid ; Beth might read to him bits 
from the daily paper that he would bring up the 
next day. But soon there came a morning when 
he said — 

“Now if you behave yourself first-rate to-day 
and sleep well to-night, I will bring you a book 
to-morrow, and you may read an hour a day.” 

That same morning John had an errand which 
took him in the direction of the doctor’s route, 
and he accepted an invitation to ride. As they 
rode past the Heckman fields, the doctor asked — 

“Who did the ploughing and sowing here this 
year ? ” 

“I did the most of it,” replied John. “I was 
not used to it, and I suppose things do not look 
as promising as they ought.” 

The doctor did not seem to notice John’s 
apologetic tone, and responded with a gruff, — 
“Humph! Can’t Stephen plow?” 

“Yes; but Stephen hasn’t much taste for 
farming.” 

“And have you a taste for it?” The question 
was accompanied by a sharp look at the boy, who 
was now in turn apologizing for his brother. 

“No, I don’t think I have a real taste for it; 
but I make the best of it, seeing I have to do it.” 


John’s marah. 


”5 

“Then you did not choose farming as an 
occupation ? ” 

“ Yes ; I chose it.” 

“ May I ask why you choose it if you have not 
a taste for it ? ” 

“Because it seemed to be my duty.” John’s 
tone implied that the one word “duty” settled it. 

“Yours any more than Stephen’s?” 

“I cannot judge of Stephen’s duty; I am only 
sure of my own.” 

“Are both of you needed on the farm?” 

It may have occurred to John that Dr. Watson 
was asking a great many questions; but he did 
not by word or look express any wonder, and 
replied to this last one — 

“We could both be kept busy; but Stephen 
hates it so that he does not accomplish much.” 

“Shirks, eh?” 

“Oh, no, sir; I don’t mean to say that.” 

“But it amounts to that.” 

“Not just that. Some way Steve can’t get 
hold of the right end of things. He has plenty 
of energy, but when it comes to farm work, he 
does not seem to have any grip.” 

The doctor laughed at this explanation, and 
presently he said, watching as he spoke, the 
expression of the boy’s face — 

“I have been thinking that perhaps when 
Stephen gets well, one of you might be spared * 


n6 John’s marah. 

to come into my office and study. How would 
you like that? ” 

“Oh, sir, I should like it! You are very kind 
to think of it, but I do not think I could be 
spared from home. But if you would give Ste- 
phen the chance ! ” 

“Do you think Stephen would like to study 
medicine ? ” 

“Yes, sir; I think he would. I don’t know as 
he has ever thought of it, but I have often 
thought he ought to be a doctor. He knows a 
great deal about things to do when any of our 
animals are sick, and I have noticed things that 
make me think he has a taste for surgery.” 

“Humph! Maybe he would make a good 
horse-doctor.” And again the doctor laughed, 
adding, after a pause — “Well, I want you to 
think about my proposition and let me know when 
you decide. I give you the first chance. I have 
been thinking for some time about taking a young 
fellow into my office. I am not at all sure that I 
should want that brother of yours, any way. A 
fellow who can’t get a grip on things will never 
do much in a doctor’s office.” 

“Oh, doctor! Stephen can get a good strong 
grip on books.” John hastened to disabuse 
the doctor’s mind of any unfavorable impression 
which his words might have given him. 

“Maybe. But a boy who can take hold of a 


John’s marah. 


ii 7 


thing whether he likes it or not will succeed any- 
where, and perhaps if Stephen were left alone 
again he would see the point and take up farming 
with more energy.” 

“I don’t believe anything would ever make 
Stephen interested in the farm,” declared John. 

“Not even a sense of ‘duty’?” The doctor’s 
eyes twinkled as he stopped to let his companion 
down from the carriage, though the boy could not 
see anything funny in the conversation. 

Dr. Watson’s questions and suggestions awak- 
ened the old ambition and the question that he 
thought he had settled away back in the dear 
church at the old home, and again in the silence 
of the long winter nights it came up and insisted 
upon a hearing. He supposed he had strangled 
and buried beyond thought of resurrection his 
hopes and plans for study and a professional life, 
and here they were again asserting themselves. 
True, he had never thought of the medical pro- 
fession, but, as Dr. Watson said, a man might 
make a good physician though he had no special 
drawing that way. A taste for the science of 
medicine might develop with study, and here was 
this opportunity thrust right in his pathway. 
Might he not have been mistaken as to the 
method by which he could best help the family 
out of their difficulties ? Could he not do better 
work by and by if he were to leave home now and 


1 18 


John’s marah. 


let things run on as they might until he could 
establish himself in a business or profession that 
would pay better? Why should all his ambitions 
and hopes be crushed out by this heavy burden ? 
Joe and Stephen had each in turn tried to carry it 
and had failed. Could it be carried by a boy ? 

The long, hot July days slipped away, and the 
middle of August had come. John had managed 
the haying and harvesting with the aid of Colonel 
Parsons’ man, and was now ready for a new enter- 
prise. At breakfast one morning he said — 

“ I must begin plowing for wheat to-day. If 
you need help in lifting Stephen, you will find me 
in the hill-lot.” 

The evening before, he had met Dr. Watson, 
who called out — “I hope you have not forgotten 
my proposition. I shall be up your way in a day 
or two, and shall ask for your decision.” The 
doctor said to himself as he passed on — “I know 
to a certainty what he will say. I haven’t been 
watching those young fellows for nothing all sum- 
mer. There is good stuff in both of them, 
though Stephen is badly warped, and to my way 
of thinking, John is a little twisted. A fellow 
that will stand and fight his own interests has 
no business in this world.” 

In all these weeks John had not been able to 
still the questioning. He could not put the sub- 
ject entirely aside; it would come up. Meehan- 


iohn’s marah. 


119 

ically he harnessed the horses and hitched them 
to the plough, all the while absorbed in the bit- 
terness of his own thoughts. Was it simply the 
power of the association of ideas that, as he put 
his hand to the plough, with a chirrup to his 
team, there flashed through his mind the words 
of his Master — “No man, having put his hand to 
the plough, and looking back, is fit for the 
kingdom of God ” ? And as quickly came the 
response in John’s inmost soul — “I will not look 
back; I have put my hand to the plough.” Yet, 
all the morning, as he went round and round the 
field, he thought of the bitterness of the life he 
had chosen. Once he stopped at the spring at 
the lower end of the field for a drink, and there 
came to him a scene which he had sometimes 
pictured in his mind, and he said aloud — “And 
they could not drink of the waters of Marah, for 
they were bitter.” And as quickly he recalled 
the context — “And he cried unto the Lord and 
. . the waters were made sweet.” As he 

resumed his work, he said — “I don’t know where 
the tree is that is going to make this Marah 
sweet, but I suppose it will be shown me in good 
time.” 


120 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


CHAPTER XI. 


PLAIN SPEAKING 


“He that harkeneth unto counsel is wise.” 



EANTIME, Stephen had been slowly con- 


XVX valescing. The book which Dr. Watson 
had brought out according to his promise was a 
work on physiology, an advanced text-book. 

“ There is a chapter in that on surgery, and I 
think it will answer some questions you were ask- 
ing the other day. When a fellow has a broken 
leg, he naturally wants to know something about 
broken legs, eh ? ” 

The limb was now doing so well that daily 
visits were no longer necessary, and it was two or 
three days before the doctor came again. 

“Well, have you read that chapter I spoke 


of?’ 


“Read it! I know the whole book by heart.” 
“You do! Young man, you did not obey 


orders.” 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


12 1 


“ Can’t help it — I couldn’t let it alone, and I 
don’t think it hurt me a bit, only ” — 

“ Only what ? ” 

“ Nothing, only it makes me feel like cursing 
my fate.” 

“Your fate! What do you mean by that 
expression ? ” 

The doctor stood over by the window, and he 
now turned and came and sat down by the bed. 
“See here, young man. I am your physician, 
but I am your friend as well, and I want you to 
tell me what is the matter. First, though, let me 
tell you how much I know. I remember that four 
or five years ago I used to hear my son speak of 
a young fellow at school called Steve Heckman. 
He always spoke of him as the best Latin scholar 
and the best debater. And then I remember that 
at the school exhibitions this same boy used to 
make a very creditable appearance. Lately I have 
neither seen nor heard much of him, and the little 
I have seen and heard is not very gratifying. 
Now what is the matter?” 

Stephen fairly growled out his reply — 

“Matter? The matter is that Fate has been 
too much for me.” 

“There it is again! That expression ‘fate.’ 
Just what do you mean by it ?” 

“I mean just what people always mean by 
it. In my case it means tied, hand and foot — 


122 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


bound by a chain to this farm life, which I 
hate.” 

“Humph! Do you think you have made a 
successful farmer?” 

“No; I do not suppose I have. You couldn’t 
expect a fellow to make a success of a thing he 
hates, could you ? ” 

“Well, I don’t know. There is a story of a 
fellow who was faithful over a few things, and 
who, in consequence, became ruler over many 
things, and, if I remember rightly, we are not 
told that he had a taste for doing the few things ; 
that does not seem to have entered into the ques- 
tion at all. It was just being faithful, whether 
he liked it or not; see? Now, so far as I can 
learn, you have not made yourself of any great 
account here. So far as your work on the farm 
goes, you would not be greatly missed; and yet 
you grumble because you are not promoted and 
made ruler over a great kingdom.” 

Stephen was growing vexed, and made no 
reply. The doctor slowly measured out the pow- 
ders, and folded the squares of paper with great 
precision. Presently he said — 

“I suppose John could manage very well with- 
out you.” 

“He thinks he can,” was the bitter response. 

“Then, if you cannot put your strength and 
interest into farming, why not let John go on 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


123 


alone, and you try something else as soon as you 
are well enough ? ” 

Now, indeed, Stephen was angry. Great red 
waves rolled over his face until the veins stood 
out upon his forehead. When he could speak, he 
said, with excitement — “Doctor, I intend to go 
as soon as I can walk. They need not have com- 
missioned you to tell me that I am in the way. 
John told me as much the day I was hurt.” 

“Nonsense, boy! Do you think I would 
undertake any such commission? When I med- 
dle, I do it on my own hook.” 

“Well, I shall go without anybody’s meddling 
if they will only wait patiently.” 

“Where are you going?” 

The question was asked quietly, and as if a 
matter jof course. 

“I don’t know, neither do I care. I presume 
I shall bring up at the City of Destruction some 
time. It might as well be first as last.” 

“Stephen!” — and Dr. Watson laid his hand 
soothingly upon the boy’s throbbing brow — “you 
are talking absurdly. Now let me state the case. 
In the first place, believe me that I want to be 
your friend. You have come to a place where 
you need a friend, and if you will let me, I think 
I can help you. it would seem that, as the old- 
est of the family, you might be expected to make 
the sacrifice ” — 


124 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


“ I’d like to ask if I haven’t sacrificed my life 
here!” interrupted Stephen. 

The doctor smiled. “There are two or three 
things to make one laugh over that remark. In 
the first place, it is only a little piece of your life 
that you have given here ; and again, it does not 
appear that you have made a very successful 
thing of your sacrifice. If you had shown a little 
more backbone, and stood up under the trial, and 
borne it like a man, instead of giving up and mak- 
ing a fizzle of everything, I should have more 
hope of you. I have always held to the opinion 
that it is only when a man settles down to doing 
his best in any sphere, however distasteful the 
work may be, that he gets promoted. There was, 
you remember, another fellow in the story who 
did not like the responsibility put upon him, and 
shirked, and there is no intimation that he ever 
had a chance to try over again. I am not a Chris- 
tian myself, but the book that Christians make so 
much of has in it a great many sound truths, and 
this is one of them — that the man who is faith- 
ful gets his reward, and the other fellow gets his.” 

“See here, you said I talked absurdly when 
I said I expected to bring up at Destruction. 
Seems to me you are putting it that way pretty 
strong. You are making out that there is no 
other chance for a fellow.” Stephen said this 
with bitterness. 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


125 


“ I am not. I want you to see that it is not 
what you call Fate that has spoiled things for you, 
but simply your own folly that has brought you 
where you are. Then I want you to realize that 
it is not too late to mend. You may have another 
chance to show yourself a man. It is nonsense 
for a boy of twenty to talk about its being too late. 
You have, as I look at it, lost one chance” — 

“Yes; no need to tell me that! I lost every- 
thing three years ago, and what’s the use of talk- 
ing about it ? ” 

“ Boy, the chance you lost, or threw away, was 
the opportunity to show yourself a man by taking 
hold of things here at home. That chance has 
gone by. John, in case he concludes to stay 
here, as no doubt he will, will not fail. He does 
not like farming any better than you do, but I 
tell you, my boy, John has something that you 
have not. He has what he calls faith. It may 
be a delusion — I rather think it is — but it 
serves a good purpose for all, and he will be a 
success. Now, you need not be vexed at me or 
at anybody else, but just get well as soon as 
possible, and if you can make up your mind to 
be helped, perhaps we can arrange things so that 
you need not take an express train for that 
city you seem determined to head for. I have 
brought another book. Read as much as you 
like, only be careful not to overtire yourself.” 


126 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


The boy did not offer to touch the book which 
was laid upon the bed within his reach ; but as 
the door closed upon the plain-spoken man he 
turned his head upon his pillow and exclaimed, 
angrily — “The old meddler! I would just thank 
him to mind his own business ! Who wants his 
advice or his help? I can manage for myself.” 
Just here he was reminded of Dr. Watson’s 
remark — “You have not made a success of it,” 
and he said aloud — “Well, I haven’t, that is a 
fact ! I’ve been a fool and I know it. But that 
does not help matters. I wonder if it is true, 
as Dr. Watson said, that John does not like 
farming.” 

The next time the doctor came, he asked — 
“How did you like that book?” 

“First-rate! But there are one or two things 
I want to ask you about.” 

Stephen did not see the sudden gleam in the 
eyes of his visitor, nor did he know that he was 
thinking — “Ah, life isn’t all done for with this 
young man yet ? ” 

Then as the young man asked for an expla- 
nation of the points that puzzled him, the doctor 
said — “Oh, I see your difficulty; you ought to 
study anatomy ; I’ll send you a book that will 
clear it all up for you.” 

It became a curious puzzle to Beth, what the 
invalid could find interesting in those dry-looking 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


127 


books that Dr. Watson was constantly bringing or 
sending to him during those tedious weeks of 
confinement. He had never repeated his request 
regarding the book in his own room, but aston- 
ished them all by asking to have his old Latin 
books looked up and brought to him, and he took 
to poring over them with great eagerness. 

At length the patient had so far recovered that 
there was no further need of the physician’s 
attendance, even occasionally. As he was leav- 
ing that last morning, he said — 

“Stephen, do you think you have backbone 
enough to turn forever away from liquor, tobacco 
and cards, and the set at Howland’s?” 

Stephen’s cheeks flushed, and he replied a little 
gruffly — “Seems to me you have a pretty poor 
opinion of my backbone; every time you come 
you have something to say about it, insinuating 
that it is weak.” 

“Well, I wish you would find out and let me 
know. I have had a talk with John, and he says 
he means to stick to the farm. Now I know of a 
pretty fair sort of a chance for you ; but, Stephen, 
I tell you frankly that you cannot carry any of 
these old habits into the new life to which I pro- 
pose to introduce you. I am in a hurry this 
morning,” glancing at his watch; “I am to meet 
Dr. Grannis at ten, over on the east side, for a 
consultation. If I am not detained too long, I 


123 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


will drive back this way and finish the talk. 
Meantime you can examine that moral spinal 
column of yours and find out how stiff it is.” 

He closed the door behind him, and the con- 
valescent watched him from the window, think- 
ing as he noted the firm step — “Yours is stiff 
enough, any way ; anybody can see that.” 

A few moments later, Beth was busy about the 
room, and Stephen, still watching the doctor’s 
carriage as it followed a winding road to the east 
side, said — 

“Beth, do you know I would be willing to 
work like a galley-slave, even on a farm, if I could 
see a chance of getting through a course of study 
in medicine? But there is no use in thinking 
about it. That doctor has got a scheme in his 
head. I suppose he wants me to stand behind a 
counter and measure off yards of silk and lace. 
He probably thinks I will jump at the chance.” 
He tossed aside the magazine which Dr. Watson 
had handed to him as he went out, and turned 
wearily away from the sunshine which streamed 
in at the window and from the light that danced 
in Beth’s eyes. 

John had told his sister of the proposition made 
to him and of his determination to stick by the 
farm, and had added — 

“Now if he would only give Steve the place. 
I thought at first that he would, but he did not 


PLAIN SPEAKING. 


129 


say a word about it when I told him I should stay 
here, and I do not think he means to. You see 
he is not the kind of a man to give a boy a place 
just for the boy’s sake, and he thinks Stephen is 
not quite steady.” 

Beth, thinking of the books which had been so 
constantly furnished for the invalid during these 
weeks, and divining something of the great warm 
heart that was hidden under the somewhat rough 
manner of the old doctor, thought differently, and 
as she listened to Stephen’s hopeless remarks and 
remembered John’s lack of faith in the doctor’s 
intentions to favor the elder brother, she said to 
herself — 

“I shouldn’t wonder if both boys were some- 
what astonished.” 


130 A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 


“ When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the 
Lord shall lift up a standard against him.” 

T O go back to that evening of Beth’s tea- 
party, and the group sitting on the Heck- 
man door-step in the June twilight. 

“Isn’t it nice to meet together once in a while 
like this ? ” 

It was Marne Howard who thus expressed her- 
self, and Lizzie Davis who responded — “Yes, 
indeed. And we must try to get even with Beth. 
We cannot afford to let Beth plan all the nice 
things.” 

“ Cheaper, as far as our brains are concerned,” 
put in Bob. 

“I say, let’s get up a West Hill Fourth of July 
celebration ! ” 

Marne was thinking of Jack Swan’s scheme for 
getting up a party of boys to go to the city to 


A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 131 

spend the Fourth, and as she spoke there sprung 
up in her heart a sudden hope that if they could 
do something pleasant, at home, her brother Clar- 
ence might possibly be persuaded to stay, but this 
thought she kept hidden. 

“That’s an idea!” chimed in a voice. “How 
did you happen to think of it ? ” 

There was talk, eager and fast, after that. All 
sorts of schemes, practicable and impracticable, 
were proposed. One wanted a band of music and 
a procession with flags and banners, and fire- 
works in the evening. It was even suggested 
that a cannon might be borrowed for the occasion, 
so that for once West Hill should boom. After 
all the wild projects had been discussed, it was 
decided that there should be a dinner in the 
grove, preceded by the reading of the Declaration 
of Independence, speeches, and some songs if 
possible; any way — “The Star-Spangled Ban- 
ner” and “America.” 

“We ought to have a flag,” declared Lizzie 
Davis. 

“ Why couldn’t we ? We girls could make it if 
we could only get the bunting, and I don’t believe 
it would be so very difficult to raise the money.” 

“Let’s try it. Two of us can take the valley 
end of the district, and two others the hill, and 
see what can be done by way of raising money.” 

This plan was carried out, and, after many and 


132 A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

varied experiences, the committee reported funds 
sufficient to procure a large, handsome flag, which 
still, upon all public occasions, floats in the breeze 
on West Hill. 

Just a day or two before Stephen’s accident, 
Beth received a note from Lizzie, in which she 
said — 

“ Don’t you think the Declaration is awful long 
and prosy? Nobody will listen to it. Can’t we 
cut out part of it, or have somebody tell the story 
in a way to interest the children ? It will take a 
better reader than we have amongst us to hold 
the attention through all that long rigmarole. I 
mean no disrespect to the ancient and honored 
document. Now, Beth, dear, set your brain at 
work upon this puzzle — How shall we make this 
part of our programme interesting?” 

And Beth, studying the question, and watching 
two young men of the vicinity passing with uncer- 
tain steps and loud voices, exclaimed — 

“What we need most is a new Declaration of 
Independence.” 

There was plenty of time to think it out in the 
long nights of watching that followed so quickly, 
and Lizzie and the rest of the committee were 
more than pleased with the result. “It will be 
all that I can do for the celebration,” said Beth. 
“Of course, I shall not be there, but I want my 
name to go down as one of the signers.” 


A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 1 33 

The Fourth was a bright day — sunny but not 
uncomfortably warm. At the grove everything 
was ready, and a large company gathered. It 
was such a novel idea to have anything going on 
in the neighborhood that everybody turned out to 
see what it might amount to. The flag waved 
triumphantly ; the songs were rendered, if not 
with artistic perfection, at least with spirit ; the 
speeches were enthusiastic and patriotic. The 
reading of the Declaration was relegated to the 
last place on the programme. 

Mr. Ames, who had been asked to read it, 
arose, saying — “I observe that this is a written 
copy. No explanation has been given me, but 
I suppose that the idea is to make it seem more 
like the original, more real. I have been too 
much occupied to look it over, but presume that 
with such fair chirography as this appears to be 
I shall have no trouble.” Then, clearing his 
throat as if for a great effort, he began — 

“When, in the course of human events, it 
becomes necessary, or is deemed expedient for a 
people or class to take a new departure, to break 
away from bands that have hindered their prog- 
ress, to assume new obligations and duties, and 
to take advanced positions upon any question, it 
becomes proper that they should state their 
reasons for the action. 

“We hold it to be self-evident that we all have 


134 A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

certain inalienable rights. Among these are life, 
including the right to the highest development of 
all its powers, liberty and the pursuit of happi- 
ness. We claim that the laws and customs of 
any land, or indeed of any neighborhood, should 
guarantee peace and quiet to homes, the safety 
of lives and health, the right to the pursuit of 
wealth in lines that shall not interfere with the 
property of one’s neighbors. We hold that the 
law of God is supreme and that we have a right 
to protest when our rights are trampled upon — 
when the peace and prosperity of the community 
is threatened. 

“The aggressive nature of the kingdom of the 
tyrant, King Alcohol, is well known, and the 
history of his reign upon earth is the history 
of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having as 
a direct object the establishment of an absolute 
despotism over the human race. 

“To prove this let a few facts be submitted — 

“He enters homes, and winds about the dear- 
est and best the chains of habit until they are 
his slaves, bound hand and foot, with no choice 
but to do his bidding. 

“He enters society, and threads the meshes of 
his web so adroitly in and out that countless thou- 
sands are entangled before they dream of danger. 

“He enters churches with wily tread, and in 
the guise of conservatism and discretion dulls the 


A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 1 3 5 

ear of the pews and palsies the tongue of the 
pulpit. 

“ He enters the halls of legislation and enslaves 
those who should enact righteous laws. 

“He forces his way into courts of justice, and 
unnerves those that would render just decisions. 

“He has boldly invaded the quiet retreat of 
West Hill, and quartered upon us a recruiting 
office, extorting from us a heavy tribute and 
enlisting in his army those who should be enlisted 
on the side of truth and sobriety. 

“He has thus destroyed the peace and quiet of 
the neighborhood, infringing upon those rights 
which we have declared to be inalienable. 

“He has compelled our friends and neighbors, 
taken captive in this high-handed manner, to bear 
arms against their own homes. 

“He has incited domestic disturbances, and 
endangered the comfort and prosperity of the 
community. 

“We have endured in patience, waiting for the 
politicians and law-makers to take up the matter; 
we have heard much of the magnanimity of the 
emissaries of King Alcohol ; but we have not 
experienced the kindness at their hands which we 
might have looked for in accordance with their 
professions ; all have alike been deaf to the voice 
of justice and mercy. 

“We, therefore, appealing to the righteous 


I36 A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Judge of all for help and protection, do solemnly 
declare that we, the people of West Hill in gen- 
eral conference assembled, do in our own name 
and authority solemnly publish and declare that 
we are, and of right ought to be, free and inde- 
pendent, absolved from all allegiance to the tyrant 
Alcohol. That we hereby pledge ourselves to 
total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks, in- 
cluding wine, beer and cider, and that we further- 
more pledge ourselves to stand firm in our opposi- 
tion to the liquor traffic, and to refrain, so far as 
it lies in our power, from all complicity with, or 
patronage of, the saloon. 

“Under the name of the Temperance League 
of West Hill we thus mutually pledge ourselves in 
this new Declaration of Independence.” 

Mr. Ames began reading this remarkable doc- 
ument with the air of one perfectly familiar with 
the ground he is treading; but as he proceeded 
his tone became less confident, and the expression 
of his face betokened perplexity ; he did not seem 
to be quite certain whether or not a joke had been 
played upon him, while many of the listeners 
seemed to share his perplexity. However, he 
presently seemed to take in the idea, while his 
face cleared and he read on triumphantly to the 
end. 

Mr. Davis, who had been chosen chairman of 
the day, then arose. He said — 


A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 1 3 J 

“ I am informed that, as chairman of the meet- 
ing, it is my duty to place this matter, which has 
been so clearly presented, before you for your sanc- 
tion or your rejection. What will be your pleasure 
with regard to this declaration and pledge ? ” 

Some one moved, and another seconded, its 
adoption as a whole. It may be that it was 
regarded in the minds of many present as a huge 
joke; yet there were those whose emphatic “Ay” 
was earnest and sincere, with a full understand- 
ing of the purport of the whole matter. When 
the “No’s” were called for, there seemed to be 
one only who wished to declare allegiance to King 
Alcohol, and the effect of the solitary “No” was 
almost ludicrous. 

The list of signatures was long. As usual, 
some who were expected to sign would not, and 
others surprised everybody, themselves included, 
by putting down their names. 

The company broke up early; for in a farming 
community this must always be the case. As 
they separated, shaking hands while the long, 
slanting rays of the setting sun made a mellow 
light about them, it was the unanimous verdict 
that the affair had been a success ; and the 
thought seemed to be dawning upon those farm- 
ers that West Hill was waking up. 

“Dean,” said Mr. Wilson, coming in with a 
pail of foaming milk, “ we must get out the 


I38 A NEW DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

mower in the morning; and if you go up to the 
Corners to-night, you may as well take the oil-can 
r and get it filled.” 

Dean Wilson looked up with a curious expres- 
sion on his rather handsome face, and asked what 
seemed for the moment to be an irrelevant 
question — 

“Father, did you sign that declaration to-day?” 

“Why, yes, of course I did! Haven’t I always 
been a temperance man ? And I was glad to see 
your name there, my boy.” 

“ I guess I may as well hitch up old Doll and 
drive down to Crapo’s for the oil,” said Dean. 

“Why, what in the world” — began Mr. Wil- 
son ; then, as if a new thought had come to him, 
he stopped, and finished rinsing his milk-pail in 
silence. And Dean drove to Crapo’s for machine 
oil — a distance of four miles. As he was start- 
ing his father said — “You may as well ask your 
mother for a list of needed household supplies ; it 
may not be convenient to go in again this week.” 

Dean whistled softly as he drove off, think- 
ing — “Those girls have rather stolen a march on 
some of these old temperance men.” 

And Beth, sitting on the door-step, listening to 
John’s account of the events of the day, said, 
suddenly — 

“John, it may be a slow-match; but I think 
our Hell Gate has been touched off to-day.” 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


139 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE, 


“ Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without 
knowledge ? ” 



HAT John Heckman seems to be of differ- 


JL ent stuff from the others,” saidSme neigh- 
bor to another. 

“Well, I don’t know; if you remember, Joe 
did pretty well for a year or two after the father 
died ; then he grew reckless, and things began 
to run down, and he kept getting more and more 
unsteady ; all that time Steve was in school, and 
my Bob says he was the best scholar amongst 
them all at the Union School. I really thought 
he would be the man of the family ; but after 
Joe went off Steve began to grow unsteady and 
go down hill. I have watched them, and they 
all seem to get about so far on the right road, and 
then turn about and go the other way. I have 
no confidence in them.” 


140 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


“I know they all appear well when they are 
younger; still, I cannot help thinking that per- 
haps this one will turn out better. There is a 
different look about him ; you see it in his step 
and in the expression of his face.” 

“ I am sure I hope so ; but, as I said, I have 
no faith in a Heckman.” 

“ Still, the blood is good. The father was a 
good man and a straightforward one.” 

“Yes; but there seems to be a slack-twisted 
thread somewhere in warp or woof. Now that 
Beth is a nice, ladylike girl, and my Lizzie is 
always quoting her, and I sometimes think Bob 
fancies her; but I tell them to wait and see how 
they come out.” 

How truly might John Heckman have said — 
“All my familiars watched for my halting,” and 
yet the neighbors meant to be just and kind. 
All through Stephen’s long confinement they 
had seemed to vie with each other in neigh- 
borly helpfulness ; and though the accident had 
occurred at the beginning of the busy season, 
those hurried farmers found time for the neigh- 
borly call, ai*id strength for an occasional night 
of watching to relieve the overburdened family. 
But too many of them, like Mr. Davis, had lost 
faith in the Heckmans, and had come to think 
that the qualities out of which good citizens are 
made had died out of the family. If they could 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. I4I 

have heard all the planning of those two young 
things as to how to better affairs both at home and 
in the neighborhood, doubts as to the soundness 
of their own conclusions might have troubled 
them. It is possible, too, that their eyes might 
have been opened to see the necessity for 
reform. There were some who saw the need. 

“Things have gone a great deal to the bad here 
on West Hill.” Mr. Wilson leaned over the line 
fence and whittled, while Mr. Scott was husking 
in his own field upon the other side of the fence. 
“I remember,” continued Mr. Wilson, “when 
things were different.” 

“Yes, so do I! Even ten years agu things 
were not as they are now. Sometimes I think 
that when Heckman died our luck died with him. 
One thing is certain, we have been running down 
hill ever since.” 

“That is so. I shouldn’t wonder if we owed 
more to his prayers than we realized. When 
he died we had no praying man left amongst 
us.” 

“Fact!” And Mr. Scott pulled the rustling 
husks from the long, yellow ears more slowly, as 
he said, thoughtfully — 

“And I don’t believe that saloon would be run- 
ning if he were alive; and it is ru'ning all our 
young men. Pity that we haven’t spirit enough 
here on the Hill to shut up the place.” 


142 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


“The Temperance League are doing their 
best ; but the odds are against them. Some who 
joined rather went back on the thing when they 
found it meant business; but I know of several 
who have given up going to Howland’s.” 

“ I haven’t heard anything about that society 
lately, and I supposed it had died out.” 

“No, not by a long sight! You’ll hear from 
them before spring.” 

“They will find it hard work to bring about 
anything better. Some way the Howlands have 
got a strong hold ; and it is a pretty good place 
to trade.” 

“ Have you hired a teacher for the winter ? ” 
asked Mr. Wilson, suddenly changing the subject. 

“No; and that is another thing that has run 
down. Don’t you remember what a good school 
we used to have, with spelling-schools and debates 
in the evenings ? ” 

“I remember; but there was no other place to 
go then, and now the boys and young men — and 
old men, too, for that matter — sit around and 
drink beer and play cards.” 

“Yes, I know. Have you heard anything of 
this scheme of John Heckman’s to get up a 
reading circle ? At first I thought it was all non- 
sense, and told him so — just another plan to get 
together for a frolic; but I don’t know — maybe 
it would help a little. Perhaps it would be best 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


143 


to give them an encouraging word and let them 
have the school-house, too.” 

“ What is it, anyway ? I heard Dean say some- 
thing about it ; but, as you say, I thought it was 
only a cover for more fun, and I didn’t pay much 
attention to it.” 

“Why, John came to me to know if the young 
folks could have the school-house one evening in 
the week for a reading circle. He said something 
about there being a circle that went all around 
the world, and a lot of little circles hung on — 
like little rings strung on a big one, I suppose. 
He had a book that tells all about it; but I 
thought it was all nonsense, and didn’t pay much 
attention. I told him that we did not like to let 
the school-house for all sorts of meetings. He 
said he supposed not, but that he thought a read- 
ing circle would not be objectionable, especially as 
we sometimes had let in traveling shows, and that 
the purpose of the reading circle was more eleva- 
ting than the talk of that infidel lecturer we let in 
three or four weeks ago ; and, to tell the truth, I 
was ashamed to make any more excuses after that.” 

“Well, if they will promise to behave, I don’t 
see any reason why they should not have the use 
of the building.” 

« He said we could look in any time, and if 
we did not like the way they were doing we could 
turn them out.” 


144 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


“ That's fair.” 

“Yes; and I think I will let him have the key. 
The boy has a pretty even piece of wheat there.” 

“I have noticed it; and that piece of spring 
wheat that he put in was by all odds the best 
crop there has been on the place for years.” 

“Has Steve left for good?” asked Mr. Scott. 

“Dean says that Dr. Watson has taken him 
into his office. It was reported that he had 
secured a place as a hostler somewhere in Clay- 
borne, but I guess it is a fact that he has got a 
chance to study.” 

“If he will only keep steady — but he won’t!” 

“That Arbor Day business went off pretty 
well,” remarked Mr. Wilson, throwing aside his 
stick and closing his knife as if he had reached 
the last topic of interest. “And I notice that all 
the trees around the school-house are alive and 
doing finely.” 

“ I own up beaten there. It is such a long 
time since we have had anything but tomfoolery 
here on the Hill that I was determined to keep 
them off the school Green ; but they did their 
work well and behaved decently, too ! ” 

The C. L. S. C. of West Hill was an assured 
fact. Whether they could have the school-house 
or not, they were determined not to be thwarted 
in their undertaking. The membership was not 
large, but it was enthusiastic. As to how it sug- 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


145 


gested itself to the minds of the young people, 
the explanation is simple. One summer, while 
living with his uncle, John Heckman had spent a 
few weeks at the headquarters of the C. L. S. C., 
and had then become interested in the scheme, 
though his uncle had objected to his undertaking 
the course, thinking it would interfere with his 
school work. But his aunt belonged ; and among 
the books which she had put in John’s trunk were 
one of the hand-books and “The Hall in the 
Grove.” Beth and Lizzie had become interested 
by reading these, and they had succeeded in inter- 
esting Bob, and after getting all the information 
John could give them they had voted to have a 
circle. 

“Even if it should be just a square with four of 
us, one for each corner!” said Beth, mindful of a 
certain circle which began as a triangle. 

“That would certainly be a solution of the 
old problem of squaring the circle,” said John, 
laughing. 

And so the “higher education” of the young 
people on West Hill began. A mile or so down 
the valley was the Munson farm. Mr. Munson 
and his family were not exactly West Hill people, 
living, as they did, just over in the next school 
district ; but the young people were very desira- 
ble as members of the C. L. S. C. Mr. Munson 
was a good man, a Christian and a prominent man 


146 THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 

in the Clayborne church, which John and Beth 
now attended with more or less regularity. He 
was a rather stern man, cold and unsympathetic ; 
and especially he had little sympathy with the 
plans and schemes of young people. He could 
not understand why they should “waste their 
time” in playing games and running about to 
social gatherings. He was a strong advocate of 
“home pleasures” and “home amusements” — 
though after spending a few days in the family 
one would be puzzled to understand his definition 
of the terms he was so fond of using, for surely 
never was home more destitute of the things that 
contribute to pleasure and amusement. 

He looked upon the people at West Hill as a 
hard set ; indeed, he had been heard to remark 
that if there were missionary ground anywhere it 
might be found within five miles from Clayborne; 
yet, strange to say, he did not seem to feel called 
upon to “lend a hand” in spreading the gospel 
amongst these “heathen” at his door. Knowing 
something of the opinions of his neighbor, it was 
with some misgivings that Dean Wilson under- 
took to interview the young Munsons upon the 
subject of the circle. 

He was pretty sure of their cordial sympathy; 
but how to manage so that their father might not 
spoil everything, by setting his face against the 
scheme, and peremptorily forbidding them to have 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


147 


any part in it was the question that puzzled the 
young man. It so happened that the conver- 
sation shaped itself so as to lead up to the very 
thought in mind. The fact that a new craze had 
struck Clayborne in the form of a series of sur- 
prise parties, was commented upon ; and Mr. 
Munson took occasion to speak very strongly 
against that form of entertainment, and very 
pointedly remarked that to his mind it was an 
evidence of the degeneracy of the times, that 
young people so entirely discarded all forms of 
sensible and profitable entertainment. If young 
people were brought up with habits of reading and 
study well established, they would not care to be 
“ running off to parties, wasting precious time in 
frivolous conversation and silly games.” 

This seemed to be the opportunity for which 
Dean waited, and he hastened to remark — “We 
have been thinking, up our way, that we ought to 
have something profitable going on, and we have 
decided to start a reading circle ; and I came 
down here to-night to ask Tom and the girls to 
join.” 

“Tom and the girls” recognized in this a decid- 
edly new departure for Dean Wilson, for he was 
far removed from any suspicion of being literary ; 
however, they were interested at once, and asked 
eagerly about the plan, while Mr. Munson seemed 
not quite pleased at being caught up in that fash- 


148 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


ion, and he said, in a puzzled way — “Eh, 
what ? ” 

Dean tried to explain the object and scope of 
the circle ; but Mr. Munson was inclined to 
criticise. 

“I don’t see any call for — well, for my folks, 
for instance, going off a mile or two from home 
to read, when they can just as well sit down here 
and read together, and save the time spent run- 
ning back and forth.” 

“Mr. Munson” — and there was a twinkle in 
Dean’s eyes as he spoke — “you go to prayer- 
meeting at Clayborne, do you not?” 

“ Certainly ! I have not missed a mid-week 
meeting in ten years; I am always there.” 

“I hope you will excuse me if I ask why the 
same reasoning will not apply in regard to the 
prayer-meeting ; folks can pray and read their 
Bibles at home; why waste time going back and 
forth ?” He said afterward — “I knew it was not 
exactly a parallel case, but I thought I would ven- 
ture it.” His host was very patient with his 
ignorance and with what seemed to the older man 
like levity. 

“My friend, it is a very different thing. We 
are commanded to assemble ourselves together, 
and, besides, there is great profit in united 
prayer.” 

“Thank you for that word ‘profit.’ There is 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. I49 

where the cases are alike ; we think that there is 
profit in united study. You see we get together 
and talk over our readings, and so have the bene- 
fit of each other’s thought on the subject.” 

“ It all sounds very well, but I see through it as 
plain as day. You young folks on the Hill are 
after fun more than reading ; all the reading you 
will do won’t count for much.” 

“But, sir, there is a regular course laid out — 
so much for every week, and we are pledged to 
keep up.” 

“I don’t know how you folks up your way ex- 
pect to find time to read regularly so much a day. 
There’s those Heckmans ; by the looks of things 
there, they need to do something besides reading. 
That was one of the best farms in the county, 
and look at it now ! All run down, and the 
boys growing up shiftless, and worthless, too ! I 
have no patience with that way of bringing up 
boys. Now there’s this new-comer, John ; he 
brought a letter and united with the church ; but 
he does not go to church more than half the time, 
and he never goes to the prayer-meeting, and his 
mother hasn’t been inside of the church more 
than half a dozen times since her husband died, 
and such a good meeting-man as he was, 
too ! ” 

“Have you ever thought what might be the 
reason that they do not go to church ? ” 


i5o 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. 


“Generally, folks don’t go because they don’t 
want to — that is my theory.” 

“I can see a dozen reasons why the Heckmans 
do not go. John is a nice fellow, and things are 
going on better up there. I guess you haven’t 
been up that way, lately. You would see a 
change.” 

“Well, I believe that folks don’t prosper any 
more for neglecting their church duties, and I 
should like to s'ee John Heckman and his mother 
in the prayer-meeting before I countenance any 
reading circles of their getting-up. Now if you 
were thinking of starting a weekly prayer-meeting 
at the Corners, I should most heartily approve.” 

“But, Mr. Munson, who would pray? You for- 
get that the people up that way are not of the 
praying sort.” 

“Father!” — it was Tom who suddenly spoke, 
as if he had resolved to cut off any further objec- 
tions : “you are always talking about the people of 
that neighborhood being rather a hard lot ; now it 
seems to me that if they are going to try to do 
something elevating, we Christians ought to turn 
^in and help them.” As Tom was not a Chris- 
tian, but quite inclined to scoff at religion, his 
remark matched the sarcastic tone in which it was 
uttered. He continued — “I am going to join 
that C. D. E. F., or whatever it is, and I shall 
miss my calculations if I do not take Lou and 


THE TALKING MULTITUDE. I 5 I 

Jennie along. So, Dean, you may put us down as 
members in good and regular standing.” 

There were occasions when a certain ring in 
Tom’s voice warned his father that opposition was 
worse than useless, and this was one of them. 

Going into his room after his round of fasten- 
ing the doors for the night, Mr. Munson said, in 
a tone that betokened real anxiety — “I am sorry 
Tom took that stand. I don’t like our children 
being mixed up with affairs in that neighbor- 
hood.” Then, as if he was nerving himself up to 
an unpleasant duty — “ I believe I ought to go 
and talk with Sister Heckman and John. They 
are the only professing Christians in that neigh- 
borhood, and they ought to set an example of 
godly living.” 


52 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 


CHAPTER XIV. 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 

“ These be thy gods, O Israel ! ” 

NE Saturday John went to Clay borne to 



mill. It so happened that Stephen had 
chosen this time for a visit at home ; and, coming 
around by a longer way in order to do an errand 
for Dr. Watson, he missed John. He had the 
grace to express his regret, sincerely, I think, on 
this account. 

During the morning, directly after Stephen’s 
arrival, Colonel Parsons came in to have a talk 
with John and his mother about a business propo- 
sal which he had to make. Finding John away, 
he sat down to talk it over with the rest of the 
family. 

“Mrs. Heckman,” he commenced, “scattered 
through your wood-lot across the gulf are a dozen 
or fifteen oaks, which are getting past their prime. 
If they could be cut now, they would be worth a 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 1 53 

small fortune. If you will give me the privilege 
of taking them out, I will pay a good price and be 
much obliged besides. I have a heavy contract 
to fill — that is, I will take the contract if I can 
get the timber, and oak is scarce about here. In 
fact, the timber lands in this section are pretty 
well thinned out, but that twenty-acre lot of 
yours is very heavily timbered. The smaller lot 
on this side was somewhat cut over in your hus- 
band’s time and it would be a good plan to go 
through the other judiciously. If I can make a 
bargain with you I will go through and cut what 
ought to be cut, leaving all the growing trees and 
leaving the limbs for you, to be cut into fire-wood.” 

The offer which Colonel Parsons proceeded to 
make for the oaks was so liberal as to almost take 
away Mrs. Heckman’s breath. She had never 
suspected that she had so much wealth growing 
upon her farm. The wood-lots were to her and 
her children valuable only as a source of supply of 
fuel. That there might be a way out of their 
pecuniary difficulties by turning some of the 
timber into money had never occurred to this 
woman, so unused was she to business calcula- 
tions. And now that the knowledge had come 
upon her so suddenly, she was quite over- 
whelmed. Colonel Parsons said further — 

“If you choose and John likes the idea, you 
can let half the sum apply on the note, and I 


154 SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 

will pay half cash down. That will enable you 
to put yourselves in better shape.” 

Stephen urged his mother to accept the offer 
at once, but she said — 

“I must wait and see what John says.” 

“John! What has he to do with it? You 
own the place, and can do as you choose ; and 
it seems to me that if Beth and I both advise 
it, and since John is not here, it is quite unneces- 
sary to wait to consult him, especially as Colonel 
Parsons wants an answer right away.” 

Beth was quite inclined to urge her mother 
to close the bargain as Stephen advised, saying — 

“It will be such a splendid surprise for John 
when he comes home ! ” 

“And if you wait, John will be sure to pick a 
flaw in the plan and upset it ; he is so much 
wiser than the rest of us,” muttered Stephen. 
But Mrs. Heckman reflected that as John was 
now doing all the work, and had shouldered the 
responsibility of the farm and the debt and the 
support of the family, it was only fair that he 
should be consulted; and she firmly declined to 
give a positive answer to the colonel’s proposition. 

“I should like your decision to-night, if possi- 
ble, as I must close with Wagfall & Company on 
Monday; and, if I cannot get the lumber, I can- 
not take the contract.” And with this the 
colonel departed. 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 1 5 5 

“What does he want of the trees?” inquired 
Beth. “ I mean, what does he furnish Wagfall 
& Company ? ” 

“Why, beer-kegs, of course!” replied Stephen. 
“You see he will get out the logs this winter, 
and saw them or work them up into staves with 
his new stave machine; and then he will either 
kiln-dry them or let them season until next sum- 
mer, when he will set the coopers at work on 
the kegs. It may be quite a time before he 
gets his money back ; but he will make a good 
thing of it in the end, even though he pay a 
good price for the trees. The colonel knows 
how to make money.” 

“Yes, he is shrewd,” replied the mother; “but 
he is generous; he has been very kind to John.” 

“Queer, too; John isn’t the sort of a fellow 
that I should suppose Colonel Parsons would pick 
out to favor. The colonel isn’t much of a saint 
himself, and I never could understand how he 
gets along with John’s notions.” Stephen’s tone 
showed that he still looked upon John as a very 
eccentric fellow. 

“Wait until he comes into antagonism with 
some of the colonel’s ideas or plans,” said Beth. 

“Yes; that is why I was so anxious to have 
mother close the trade to-day. You’ll find there’s 
trouble ahead. John will never consent.” 

“ Why, Steve, what makes you think so ? ” 


I56 SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 

“He is too much of a fanatic. And I was a 
little surprised at you, my lady sister. Though 
you are not of the saintly sort, yet you are dread- 
fully set on the temperance question. But most 
people make exceptions when there is money 
at stake,” and Stephen laughed a little bitterly. 

“ I don’t see what the oak trees have to do with 
temperance,” said Beth. 

“Don’t, eh? Well, I don’t, either; it wouldn’t 
trouble my conscience ; but I did not know how 
far your fanaticism would carry you.” 

“Why, mother, do you think our selling Col- 
onel Parsons some oak trees has anything to do 
with the temperance question ? ” 

“ I cannot see that it has ; we sell the trees 
standing, and have no further responsibility in the 
matter. I did not even think what he might be 
going to do with the lumber.” 

“ I tell you what it is,” said Stephen, with the 
air of one whose opinions were weighty, and who 
intended to bring others to his way of thinking if 
possible; “it is all very well to talk about not 
being mixed up with the business, and I think 
that so far as possible it is well to avoid what you 
call ‘complicity with evil’; especially those who 
have set themselves up as the advocates of tem- 
perance will shun criticism by keeping out of it, 
but we must draw the line somewhere. Don’t 
you see that to keep entirely out of it you must 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 1 57 

live a hermit life? And I am not sure that you 
can buy a loaf of bread or a pound of meat that is 
entirely free from the taint of liquor. Carrying 
one’s notions too far makes one ridiculous.” 

The few weeks spent in Dr. Watson’s office 
had greatly changed Stephen Heckman ; he had 
lost much of the recklessness that had so long 
characterized his speech and manner; he was not 
often bitter or sarcastic ; and though he still some- 
times ridiculed or sneered at John’s “notions,” he 
was much more brotherly, and seemed to appre- 
ciate, in some slight degree, at least, John’s self- 
denial and the benefit which he was reaping from 
it. He came home as often as he found oppor- 
tunity; and his mother and sister were growing 
proud of his improved appearance ; and thus it 
was that his opinions had come to have more 
weight with Beth, who used so often to lose all 
patience with him. He stayed to dinner, and was 
so helpful, and so interested in home matters, and 
in every way so agreeable, that more and more 
the usually clear-sighted Beth saw things as he 
saw them. She went down to the gate with him, 
and watched the carriage until it disappeared 
around the curve; then she went back to her 
mother, and together they talked over the good 
fortune which had so suddenly and so unexpect- 
edly come to them. All the afternoon Beth’s 
head was full of the subject. She had put aside 


158 SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 

all thoughts of its having anything to do with 
temperance principles. She decided that Stephen 
had just talked as he did to tease her; what had 
they to do with the disposition of the trees after 
they had passed into the possession of another? 
It was not as though the lumber might not be put 
to other uses. Of course, they wished that there 
were no such things as beer-barrels, and they 
hoped the day might come when there would be 
no use for them. If it were barley which they 
were planning to sell to the brewer, or corn to the 
distiller, it would be different, but people did not 
drink kegs. John was not quite so notional as 
Stephen seemed to think. And the price to 
be paid would be, as the colonel had said, a 
fortune to them in their circumstances. They 
could make themselves more comfortable in the 
house, put some repairs on the barns, and add to 
their stock and farming tools. It seemed to 
Beth’s excited imagination that they were taking 
a straight road for the Canaan to which she and 
John were looking. Very impatiently she waited 
for her brother’s return, and she could scarcely 
wait for him to care for his horses, so eager was 
she to tell her news. 

“Oh, John, such good news! Such a surprise 
as we have for you ! Mother and I have got over 
the surprise, and have settled down to the enjoy- 
ment of our good fortune in anticipation.” Then 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 1 59 

she told her story. John listened in silence, and 
she said, impatiently — “Why don’t you say some- 
thing? Isn’t ,it splendid ? ” 

He replied slowly, as if dreading to disappoint 
her — “Beth, do you think it would be right to do 
that ? ” 

“Why not? Dear me! It is just as Stephen 
said ! He wanted mother to close the bargain, 
because he said you would not consent if you 
were consulted, and I wanted her to accept the 
offer, because I wanted to surprise you with the 
thing all done, for sure.” 

“But, Beth, beer-kegs ! ” 

“ But what have we to do with that ? Suppose 
we sold the whole farm — to Colonel Parsons, or 
anybody else — we couldn’t dictate as to what 
should be done with those old oaks.” 

John was silent for a few moments; then he 
said, thoughtfully — “Beth, that may seem a puz- 
zling question ; but I think that, if I knew any 
part of the property to be transferred was to 
be used to further in any way the liquor interest, 
my duty as a Christian would be to refuse to 
entertain any proposition for its transfer.” Turn- 
ing to his mother, he asked — “If you had a 
vacant store, would you rent it for a saloon ? ” 

“I think not; but this does not seem to me 
just the same.” 

“The same, only a little more remote.” 


l60 SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 

“That is it! Things get more remote, and 
Stephen says we must draw the line somewhere,” 
said Beth. 

“And he would draw it between beer-barrels 
and oak trees. Beth, I do not believe that you 
think it is just the right place to draw it.” 

“Well, I did doubt it somewhat at first; but 
Stephen made it seem all right, and I hoped you 
would look at it that way ; and the colonel offered 
such a good price, and it would take such a bur- 
den off your shoulders ! ” And the girl sighed 
sadly over a shattered hope. 

“But I would rather have the burden on my 
shoulders than on my conscience.” 

“The money would take us such a long way 
through the desert or wilderness or whatever it is 
we are struggling through ; but I suppose we must 
just struggle on.” 

“It may not be the right thing to do, after 
all,” said the perplexed mother; “but it seemed 
to me to be providential, coming so unexpectedly, 
after we have had a hard time, with Stephen’s 
accident and all. I thought perhaps it was the 
way the Lord was going to help us.” 

John tried to convince his mother that much 
good had come out of the events of those dark 
days that she so bemoaned, and assured her that 
they would do very well. They were very com- 
fortable ; and though they looked forward to a few 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 1 6 1 

years of hard work and close economy, yet he felt 
sure that they would work their way out at last. 
And he told her how he had resolved that just as 
far as possible he would have nothing to do with 
the liquor traffic ; that he would enter into no cov- 
enant with this enemy of homes and destroyer of 
souls. And some way, as John talked, Beth was 
with clearer vision and the mother grew stronger 
of heart. 

It was a hard task set for John to announce 
their decision to Colonel Parsons. He anticipated 
the colonel’s disappointment and displeasure ; but 
he was not prepared for the storm that followed 
his announcement. The older man called his 
young neighbor ungrateful, accused him of setting 
himself up to criticise the actions of his superiors 
and elders ; he pronounced him an idiot and a 
lunatic ; and after pouring out his wrath for sev- 
eral minutes, he ended by declaring that if he saw 
a Heckman starving he would not give him a 
crust. He said — “Young man, the responsibil- 
ity of the whole country’s welfare does not rest 
upon your shoulders, though you seem to think 
so. I would like to inquire about what share of 
the responsibility you think would be yours in 
case you sold me those oaks, and a few men, 
more or less, should make fools of themselves and 
drink too much of Wagfall’s beer? Your account- 
ability will not be as great as you seem to think. 


162 shoulders, or conscience? 

And the sooner you get down from your stilts the 
better. As it is, I want no more of you ; I might 
have known how it would be. I did know, all the 
while, that I was making a fool of myself.” 

Until within the last few months Beth had 
never read or studied the Bible much ; but, having 
entered into John’s fancy about Egypt and Pha- 
raoh and Canaan, she began to study up the story 
of the exodus of the olden time, and was con- 
stantly finding new grounds for parallels in their 
own experience. Sometimes John laughed at her 
fancies, and said the resemblance in their experi- 
ences was hard to find ; but it all cheered them 
on their way, and brought the girl’s mind into 
contact with Bible truth, which was, perhaps, the 
best part of it all. The Sabbath following this 
particular Saturday, she had been for some time 
bending over the large family Bible ; afterward 
she sat for awhile, as was her habit, with her 
hands folded in her lap, and the far-off look in her 
eyes. Presently she spoke — “Moses, I made a 
golden calf yesterday, and all day I worshiped it. 
And I made a little feast, too ; did you observe 
that the supper was a little nicer than usual? 
And then you came home an‘d shattered my idol ! 
I have so often wondered how those old Israelites 
could fall into idolatry; but it is just as easy! I 
suppose covetousness is idolatry, and I certainly 
coveted the money that those trees would bring, 


SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 163 

and it was pretty hard to see my idol tumbling 
over and going all in pieces.” 

John came and stood beside Beth, laying his 
hand upon her shoulder with a caressing touch. 
“I knew it was a sad disappointment to you, but 
you will be glad some day. Let me tell you a 
story; it is one Uncle John read to us, and I sup- 
pose what he said about it made me remember 
it. There was a Mohammedan general, whose 
name was Mahmoud. He conquered India, and 
destroyed all the idols he found. Upon one occa- 
sion he was offered a large sum of money if he 
would spare one of the large idols. He hesitated 
only a moment ; then said that he would rather be 
known as the destroyer than as the seller of idols, 
and ordered his soldiers to proceed with the work 
of destruction. The idol was hollow, and filled 
with treasures of gold and diamonds -and other 
precious stones, so that the general was richer 
than he would have been had he accepted the 
bribe. And Uncle John said that when people 
were true to their convictions, and were willing 
to put away their idols, God would surely reward 
them in some unexpected way. It seems now as 
though this act of standing by what we think 
right had cost us dear ; but if we wait a little, we 
may, like Mahmoud, find that the breaking of 
the idol was necessary that hidden treasures 
might be revealed to us.” After a silence had 


164 SHOULDERS, OR CONSCIENCE? 

fallen between them for a time John said softly — 
“ Beth, do you remember what Moses asked the 
people that day ? ” 

“Do you mean when he said — ‘Who is on 
the Lord’s side ? ’ ” 

“Yes, I mean that ; and do you remember that 
certain of the people ranged themselves boldly on 
his side? Beth, since you are drawing parallels, 
why not complete it and make the question 
personal ? ” 

To this question the girl had no answer ready. 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 


165 


CHAPTER XV. 

DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 


“The eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole 
earth, to show himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart 
is perfect toward him.” 

D EAN says his father thinks taxes will be 
very high this year.” 

As he spoke, John closed his account-book with 
a little sigh, which did not escape his mother’s 
notice. He was generally careful not to show in 
her presence any sign of weariness or depression. 
It was so hard for this woman to rise above the 
discouragements of later years that she wondered 
how it was that John and Beth could be so hope- 
ful and light-hearted, and in her own heart she 
would say — “When they have the experience 
which I have had of the discouragements and 
disappointments of life, they will understand their 
mother’s lack of faith in the ‘better times’ to 
which they are looking.” Yet she was learning 


1 66 DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 

to hide her sadness, and was becoming more and 
more interested in their plans. Beth would say — 
“Poor mother! No wonder she is so sorrowful. 
But when we get out of this wilderness she will 
enjoy the land flowing with milk and honey. 
And then if some day Joe come home, she would 
almost die of joy, only people do not die of a 
superabundance of joy.” 

The withdrawal of Colonel Parsons’ friendship 
was a great grief to them all, and was likely to 
work disaster to their interests. John had been 
so used to saying, when in any doubt or perplex- 
ity — “I’ll ask Colonel Parsons,” or, “The colonel 
will advise me what is best to do,” that it was 
very hard to remember that this hitherto friendly 
neighbor was no longer his friend and adviser. 
And there seemed no end to the annoyances and 
perplexities which grew out of this loss of confi- 
dence and kindly regard. John did not know 
how far others were influenced by the colonel’s 
action, but he fancied that some of the neighbors 
treated him with less friendliness than usual. 
Patrick was sent to ask for the return of certain 
farming tools which John had been using, the 
colonel having said — “Keep them until you can 
do better for yourself. They have been hanging 
in the tool-house for years, for of course the men 
will choose the improved tools in preference to 
the old-fashioned ones. So you are welcome to 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 1 67 

keep these as long as you need them.” The 
return of these necessary implements made the 
purchase of new ones imperative, which decreased 
John’s funds so alarmingly that he began to be 
anxious as to how they were to get through the 
winter. Especially did the thought of the taxes 
trouble him, and drew from him an unaccustomed 
expression of discouragement. 

“ Do you not think you will have enough to pay 
them?” asked his mother. 

“ I hope so ; but it will leave us without a 
dollar, and little prospect of anything coming in 
before spring. No one seems to want work. If 
I could only get a job somewhere!” He did not 
add what was in his mind — that Colonel Parsons 
was employing several extra hands at work which 
he could do, and that he had expected to be 
employed. 

“ Never mind,” said Beth, cheerfully. “If you 
have enough for the taxes we shall get along. 
We can live on corn-meal and potatoes, and with 
plenty of milk we shall fare royally. No need of 
our starving, even if we do not have ‘store 
victuals 

“True; yet there are always so many unex- 
pected demands that it is scarcely safe to have an 
empty pocketbook,” replied John. 

“ It is not safe to be in the path of a cyclone, but 
if one overtakes you, what can you do about it?” 


1 68 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 


The “unexpected demands ” came sooner than 
they anticipated, and from a source which aston- 
ished them greatly. Only a few days subsequent 
to this conversation, two bills were presented to 
Mrs. Heckman. One was for work done at the 
blacksmith’s shop in the neighborhood, under 
Stephen’s management, two years previous. This 
bill was a surprise to Mrs. Heckman, as well as to 
John. Neither of them was aware that Stephen 
had left any debts behind him. The other bill 
was presented by Mr. Howland, and was for 
“merchandise.” The bills were not large, yet 
sufficiently so to bring consternation into the 
Heckman household. John said — 

“Of course, this bill at the blacksmith’s must 
be settled. The point that puzzles me is why 
both these should come in just now with such 
imperative demands for immediate settlement.” 

He did not know then, nor indeed did he ever 
know, that sitting in the grocery one evening, 
talking over his disappointment about the pur- 
chase of the oaks, Colonel Parsons had said — 
“Well, I hope they will not come upon the 
town for support, but with such management, it 
will be a wonder if they do not come to that 
before they die. Any way, if I had any small 
accounts unsecured, I would make an effort to 
get a settlement speedily.” Then Mr. Howland 
remarked that Stephen had left an unsettled 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 1 69 

account, and the colonel responded — “Send it in 
to Mrs. Heckman. Folks who can afford to 
throw away such chances as I gave them must 
have a mint of their own. I would be willing to 
back up some of you for the sake of bringing 
them to their senses.” 

It was such remarks as these, uttered carelessly 
in the bitterness of Colonel Parsons’ anger and 
disappointment, that brought distress into the 
struggling household. There were two reasons 
for the colonel’s displeasure. He liked to make 
money when he saw a good chance, and, of 
course, was disappointed ; but the fact that his 
plans had been upset by a boy, and for what he 
considered a whim, was worse than his disappoint- 
ment. Colonel Parsons was a man who could 
not endure to be thwarted, and it was apt to be a 
serious matter for any one to undertake to oppose 
him. 

As the Heckmans talked over this new trouble, 
Beth said — “I think we ought to send for Ste- 
phen to come out and settle his own bills.” And 
it was finally determined that this was the thing 
to do. Accordingly, word was sent to Stephen 
that his family wished to see him as soon as con- 
venient. But Stephen tore up the note, and 
said, angrily — “I won’t go. Let them manage 
their own affairs. They have rejected my advice 
until I am disgusted with their management.” 


1^0 DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 

As he did not go home, John determined to 
go to Clayborne and interview him. Stephen 
received his brother with a little coldness of man- 
ner, but John was prepared for this and did not 
appear to notice it. He said — 

“ Stephen, I have come down to ask about 
these bills. Mother says she does not know 
whether they are correct, and thinks you may 
remember about the work at the shop, and she 
is sure that we never had groceries from How- 
land’s that were not paid for.” 

Stephen looked at the bills, and asked — 

“Why do you come to me about these? I 
have nothing to do with business affairs at 
home.” 

“As I told you, mother wishes to know if they 
are just.” 

“Just? Why shouldn’t they be? And I sup- 
pose you will pay them, as you have shouldered 
the establishment.” And Stephen laughed; it 
was the old scornful laugh that always troubled 
John. 

“Of course, if they are all right we will pay 
them ; but, Stephen, I wish you would go out 
and see these men, and ask them to wait a little 
while until I can earn the money.” 

“ Why should they be asked to wait ? They 
have waited two years already.” 

“I know; but you see this is so unexpected 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. I /I 

that I am not prepared to pay at once, and you 
observe that in both cases the demand is impera- 
tive for immediate settlement. I think that, as 
you are the one who contracted the debts, they 
would give a little more time if you asked the 
favor.” 

“It wouldn’t do a bit of good. Neither of 
these men has any too high an opinion of me. I 
overheard some remarks that were made the 
night I broke my leg. They thought I was 
unconscious, but I wasn’t. I understand pretty 
well their estimate of me.” 

“But, Stephen, about this bill of Mr. How- 
land’s. Mother would like to know what they 
mean by ‘merchandise.’ You know, if this is 
for liquor they cannot collect it of mother, and 
she wants to know.” 

“Better ask them, if you are so anxious to find 
out.” Stephen spoke angrily, but John replied 
very quietly — 

“ I assure you it is not a matter to get vexed 
about. We ought all to be interested in what 
concerns mother, and I cannot help thinking that 
you can deal with these men to better advantage 
than I can. It would be rather hard on mother to 
have a suit brought, as they threaten to do.” 

Stephen persisted in treating the matter as no 
concern of his, advised John to pay the bills as 
soon as he could, assuring him that there would 


172 DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 

be no trouble, that the threats were only a scare, 
and finished by saying — “If you had not been so 
extremely notional, you might have had means to 
pay these demands and all others. Anybody who 
throws away money as you do — or the opportu- 
nities of getting it, which amounts to the same 
thing- — cannot expect sympathy when a pinch 
comes.” 

That drive home was not soon forgotten. The 
boy’s heart was very heavy. It would be hard to 
tell his mother that he had failed to gain either 
help or sympathy from Stephen. And what was 
he to do ? It was not only the embarrassment of 
not being able to pay promptly the bills, but the 
dread of a law-suit. He did not think as Stephen 
insisted, that the threats were idle, and it seemed 
to him that he could never bear the disgrace of 
having a suit brought for the collection of these 
bills. Their reputation for honesty and prompt- 
ness was at stake. He studied the matter all 
the way home. Stephen had, in the course of 
their talk, suggested that John might borrow 
the money, but who would lend it to him ? He 
thought of stopping at Mr. Wilson’s and asking 
him for a loan, offering to secure him by giving 
him a claim upon some of the farm stock, but this 
idea was very distasteful, though it seemed the 
only thing to do. He decided, however, to wait a 
day or two before he took any one into his conn- 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 1/3 

dence or asked any favors. To many this indebt- 
edness of a few dollars may seem very trifling and 
a small thing . to cause so much uneasiness, 
especially when the fact of the Heckmans having 
a large farm in their possession is taken into con- 
sideration. But we must remember that the cir- 
cumstances were peculiar, that the farm had not 
for a long time been made a source of profit, and 
that in this emergency ready money, not land, 
was the need of the hour, and this John saw no 
way of obtaining upon such short notice. Again, 
it must be remembered that, although John was 
wise beyond his years in many respects, yet he 
was, after all, only a boy with a limited knowledge 
of the ways of the business world. And it is not 
to be wondered at that riding home in a Novem- 
ber rain, he said to himself — “It is of no use. 
We might as well give up first as last. We 
have come to a place on the march where the 
way is completely hedged across, and I see no 
way through or around the difficulty. It was 
too heavy a burden to undertake to carry, any 
way.” 

But presently there stole in upon his mind a 
memory of an hour in the beautiful church at the 
old home. The words to which he had listened 
came back to him with the personal application 
so softly whispered to his own soul, and there 
came to him the words which the Lord spake 


174 debt, doubt and deliverance. 

unto him whom He called to lead his people 
Tsrael — “Certainly I will be with thee.” And 
he said in his heart — “If I am truly called to a 
lesser work, even to bear this burden which 
seems so heavy, surely I may claim the same 
promise.” 

Yet there seemed no possible way out. How 
could help come? He had studied the difficulty 
on all sides, and had examined every apparent 
loop-hole by which he might hope for deliverance, 
and could see no way out. Afterward, he said — 
“I just wonder that the Lord did not take me at 
my own estimate of His promise and let me go.” 
And Beth said — 

“But he couldn’t, you know.” 

“Yes, and I am thankful for that truth.” 

We are apt to be like John ; because we cannot 
see how God can help us we doubt if there be 
any way for Him to do it. As if we possessed 
an infinite knowledge of the resources of an 
Almighty God ! And if those who have lived 
double John Heckman’s years, and have had the 
experience of a long series of signal deliverances, 
sometimes insist upon walking by sight, shall we 
blame this young man who knew by actual experi- 
ence little of God’s power to deliver? 

It was far into the night before a calm settled 
down upon John’s soul; but at last there came, 
after hours of struggle with his doubts and fears, 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 1 75 

a sweet peace — a trustful, waiting spirit. The 
way seemed as much hedged up as before. It 
was as if another Red Sea spread itself out across 
their chosen route. Would God interpose in 
their behalf ? 

They waited, not knowing what to do. It was 
two days after John’s visit to Clay borne that 
Stephen appeared at the farm. It came out that 
Dr. Watson, in driving over West Hill to visit 
a patient, had heard some neighborhood gossip 
about this trouble of the Heckmans. Upon 
returning to his office he said, abruptly — 

“ Stephen, what is this trouble at home ? ” 

“I guess nothing very much. Why?” 

“I heard something about it to-day; and I 
know John was in to see you one day this week. 
I met him as he was going out, and I remember 
that he looked very sober ; but I was so preoccu- 
pied with those fever cases on my mind, that I 
forgot to ask you about your family. Now I 
want to know what it is all about.” 

Stephen saw that he must tell the whole story, 
which he did, laying more stress upon the bill at' 
the blacksmith’s, saying — ‘‘Of course it was for 
mother that the work was done, but she has prob- 
ably forgotten ail about it.” 

“And the bill at Howland’s?” Stephen’s face 
flushed, and he did not reply until the doctor 
added — “ What about that ? ” Then he said — 


1 76 DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 

“Well, I — very likely some of it is not for 
things that mother ought to pay for.” 

“So I thought. Now to-morrow morning — I 
must drive to Cold Spring this afternoon — but in 
the morning you are to go out and settle these 
bills. I w r ill advance the money and John can 
pay me when convenient. The bill at How- 
land’s must be an itemized bill, and ajl items for 
liquor or anything in the way of gambling debts 
must be struck off. Pay for anything that is 
legitimate merchandise, and bring back a receipt 
in full. It may be a hard thing for you to do, but 
John must not carry all the burdens alone.” The 
doctor gave Stephen some further directions as to 
how to transact the business, and went his way, 
leaving Stephen ashamed, yet much relieved ; for 
he had not been so indifferent as he pretended 
when talking with John, and the matter troubled 
him greatly. Indeed, he had contemplated laying 
the whole story before his friend, the doctor, 
but had not courage to carry out the thought. 

He laid Dr. Watson’s proposition before John, 
saying — 

“And he says you are to take your time for 
paying him back; and, John, I shall remember it, 
and some day, when I can earn any money. I 
shall pay you.” 

“That is all right, old fellow,” was the hearty 
response. 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 1 77 

The bill at the blacksmith’s was paid as a mat- 
ter of course, and a receipt in full taken ; and 
Stephen fancied that the creditor seemed a little 
disappointed as the money was counted out and 
tendered him. He made no remarks further than 
to mutter an apology for his peremptory demand. 

“It was unnecessary to threaten my mother,” 
replied Stephen. “ It was through my careless- 
ness that the matter was allowed to run so long. 
Neither mother nor my brother were aware that 
we owed you anything.” 

At the saloon grocery the case was different. 
Stephen asked for an itemized bill. Howland 
replied — 

“Steve, you do not want it all down in black 
and white?” 

“Indeed, I do.” 

“You’ll never show it to your mother?” 

“Why not ? ” 

“ Because you know very well what that means 
for the most part.” 

“How should I know? It sounds as if it might 
mean sugar and flour, or nutmeg and allspice; 
but my mother wishes to know what she is pay- 
ing for.” 

At length, seeing that Stephen was determined, 
Howland turned to his books and said — 

“ See here ! Look this over ; and if you insist 
upon the items being copied, all right.” 


1 78 DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 

Stephen examined the book with the flush on 
his face deepening; at last he said — 

“You cannot expect mother to pay this bill ? ” 

“ Certainly ; why not ? ” 

“You will be disappointed, that is all.” 

The saloon-keeper was angry, and threatened, 
but Stephen was firm ; if his mother owed any- 
thing for groceries, he would pay it in her name; 
but he had no authority to pay for liquor sold to a 
minor. 

At the word “minor” Howland looked embar- 
rassed, and Stephen followed up his advantage, 
and insisted upon a receipt in full in his mother’s 
name. Howland recovered himself, and threat- 
ened ; and in his anger said that Colonel Parsons 
had promised to back him if he would carry it 
through. 

“That makes no difference,” replied Stephen. 
“My mother has a stronger friend to back her 
than Colonel Parsons.” 

“Indeed, I don’t know who it can be. The 
colonel is the richest and most influential man 
around here.” 

“Humph! Maybe, but the Friend who does 
the endorsing for mother and John does not seem 
to have much to do with affairs in this neighbor- 
hood ; at least, He is not recognized here.” 

The saloon-keeper wondered at the change in 
Stephen’s tone and manner, but there was no fur- 


DEBT, DOUBT AND DELIVERANCE. 1 79 

ther explanation ; though, as the young fellow 
went out from what had become to him a hated 
place, he said to himself — 

“ Dr. Watson does not believe much in the 
Providence that mother and John trust in ; but I 
would like to know just who managed this affair 
so that the doctor should find it out and take hold 
of it.” 


i8o 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

ROYAL BOUNTY. 

“Thou hast dealt well with thy servant, O Lord, according 
unto thy word.” 

M ISS HAVERGAL speaks of that ‘‘which 
the Lord hath done for us and given us, 
which we never asked at all, never even thought 
of asking — royal bounty, with which not even a 
prayer had to do.” If John Heckman felt that he 
had been “marvellously helped ” when Dr. Wat- 
son was sent to turn the tide of trouble that had 
threatened to roll in upon him, how did he rejoice 
in the “royal bounty” which was presently be- 
stowed upon him, a gift far beyond his hopes or 
his ambition ! 

When Stephen returned to Clayborne, after the 
settlement of the troublesome business that had 
been the occasion of his last visit to the farm, 
he was made the bearer of messages of grateful 
acknowledgment to Dr. Watson, and then John 
added — 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


1 8 1 


“You can assure him that the money he has 
advanced will be repaid just as soon as I can get 
a chance to earn it. The doctor is not a rich 
man, and it may not be convenient for him to 
wait long. I wish I knew where I could get 
something to do to bring in a little money.” 
Then, as Stephen was going away, John said to 
him — “I have been thinking that perhaps I could 
get some team work. If you keep a lookout, you 
may hear of something for me.” 

“All right, I will. And, John, I am interested 
in things here at home, for all my crossness the 
other day ; and when I get through my studies 
and earn something, the first thing I do will be to 
give you a lift. I don’t agree with you always ; 
religion is not in my line. But if it suits you to 
narrow your ideas down to a few Bible rules, why, 
that is your business.” 

“Stephen, let me suggest that there is a ful- 
ness and a wideness in the Bible,, which, if you 
would study it, you would find beyond your 
comprehension.” 

“ Excuse me, then ; I don’t want to enter upon 
any investigations beyond my capacity,” replied 
Stephen, laughing ; and, gathering up the reins > 
he added — “Well, good-by, old fellow. Don’t let 
things trouble you.” 

Later in the day the brother and sister were 
alone, and Beth said — “Those bills turning up 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


182 

so unexpectedly make me think of old Pharaoh 
repenting himself of letting the Israelites go, and 
starting out after them. I am sure I hope that 
the very last one of the host is done for. Re- 
ceipts in full are good sepulchres, as good as the 
Red Sea to wipe out the old tyrant.” 

“But, Beth, the debt is only transferred; we 
must remember that.” 

“Oh, that isn’t worth speaking of. Our lives 
will not be made ‘bitter with hard bondage.’” 
Then, dropping the light tone in which she had 
been speaking, she added — “ But, really, do you 
not think it wonderful that just when we did not 
know where help could come from, when we were 
completely discouraged — at least I was, though I 
tried not to let mother know it — a friend in need 
should spring up from such an unexpected 
quarter ? ” 

John’s reply was in a meditative tone, more as 
though he were talking to himself than as a reply 
to his sister’s question — “ Our ideas are so nar- 
row and our poor little life is sometimes hunted 
into a corner, or else comes plump against a wall, 
, or plunges us into a sea of trouble, and we look 
upon escape as impossible. Then God steps in 
and does that which we thought could not be 
done, and He does it in such a simple way that we 
are amazed. What we thought was a great and 
insurmountable difficulty looming up before us 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


183 


fades away. We find out that there was a hole 
in the wall against which we were pressed, and 
that beyond it the path is brighter and smoother.” 

John knew in his heart that for himself he had 
wider views of God’s love, and a more profound 
belief in His power to save; but he did not say 
it, for he felt that Beth could not understand. 
Her practical applications of the events in the his- 
tory of the chosen people were only to their 
every-day, outward life. Of the deeper spiritual 
meaning of the remarkable story she had little or 
no conception. Of the bondage of sin, of Christ 
as a deliverer, of the rod as a symbol of God’s 
presence and power to save in the hour of the 
soul’s temptation, she never thought. Views of 
the heavenly Canaan were swallowed up in her 
anticipations of the time when their home should 
“ blossom as the rose,” and West Hill, redeemed 
from the domination of the saloon, should be a 
model country neighborhood. When would she 
open her heart to take in the more important 
truths? John questioned often to himself, and 
ever asked that the symbolized truths of the gos- 
pel might be revealed to her. To this last remark 
she responded — 

“But there’s another way to look at it. Do 
you not think that people who do not believe as 
you do would say that there was nothing at all 
remarkable in the doctor’s hearing incidentally of 


184 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


our perplexity, and, being interested in Stephen, 
and himself kind-hearted, his offering to help us 
out?” 

“Very true, there is such a way of looking at 
many of the wonderful things that come to us. 
Do you remember that more than once in the his- 
tory of the chosen people God used natural forces 
to deliver them ? Once it was an east wind ; 
another time a flock of migratory birds. The 
miracle was not always in the peculiarity of the 
means used, but in the fitting in at just the time 
and place, or in the extent to which the action of 
the natural force was carried — the holding of 
the waves, the stay of the flight until the danger 
of the need was past. It was not the less God’s 
hand that rolled back the waters because He 
worked by means. Nowadays we call God’s inter- 
positions ‘special providences.’ Some people pro- 
fess not to believe in them. Stephen is inclined 
to ridicule the idea, and Dr. Watson would laugh 
at the thought that he was the instrument of 
carrying out anybody’s plan but his own.” 

John was getting rather too serious for Beth, 
and she suddenly broke off the conversation, say- 
ing it was time to see about supper. 

For a few days John busied himself with fin- 
ishing up odd jobs of farm work, putting things in 
order for the winter, that there might be no hin- 
drance to his accepting any offer of employment. 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


185 

One evening he was surprised by a visit from 
Mr. Scott. The call was more of a surprise as 
he felt quite unacquainted with that gentleman, 
and, besides, he thought he was not in favor with 
him. The object of the call was presently made 
apparent. 

“I s’pose you have never thought of teaching 
school?” began the visitor. 

“Yes, I thought of it; but, as I cannot very 
well leave home, I have not spoken of it. Were 
it not for this hindrance, I would be glad to take 
charge of a small school.” 

“I thought so. Well, now you needn’t go 
away from home at all. You can have the school 
here at the Corners, if you say the word.” 

“I thought you had a teacher engaged. We 
expected that school would open on Monday.” 

“ So I had, so it will ; but the teacher won’t be 
the one I had engaged. You see, three weeks 
ago I hired a young fellow from Lincoln. I didn’t 
feel quite satisfied with him, especially after my 
wife said — ‘I don’t see why you didn’t offer the 
place to John Heckman.’ Now a man don’t like 
to have some one ask why he didn’t do something 
different, particularly when he does not feel quite 
satisfied himself with what he has done. And I 
was vexed with myself that I had not thought of 
it sooner, and almost out of patience with my wife 
for not speaking before. And I just kept getting 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


1 86 

sicker and sicker of my bargain with the Lincoln 
fellow, but I could not back down. However, it 
has turned out all right ; this morning I got a let- 
ter from him asking to be released from his 
engagement, as he could have a place in the 
Academy at home. I said — ‘ All right, couldn’t 
suit me better.’ And I wrote to him that Lincoln 
could keep him if they wanted him, that we had 
good material of our own. And so, if you want 
the place, you can have it. The pay is good ; I 
had agreed to pay the other fellow ten dollars a 
week for twenty weeks ; and I’d give you that, 
though I suppose that some of the district will 
think that you ought to teach for less, seeing that 
you can board right here at home ; but I don’t 
see that it makes any difference to the district ; if 
you choose to live on air, that is your business. 
Any way, I am authorized to pay that ; and if you 
say so, it is a bargain.” 

“But you know I have had no experience in 
teaching.” 

“Yes, I know all about it; you never had any 
experience in farming, either, did you? But I 
don’t see as that has been anything against your 
success. Folks that have the right stuff in them 
can get along without experience, according to my 
calculation. Any way, it is not to be bought at 
the stores ; and, if you have it, you have got to 
make it out of somebody — might as well take it 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


IS/ 


out of the boys and girls here on West Hill. I 
reckon that they will give you a good chance at 
experience, with variations — musical, at that! It 
is a rather hard school, I’ll admit ; but I’ll risk 
you, and back you up, too. Since the colonel has 
given you the cold shoulder, I guess it is my duty 
to lend you a hand when you need it. Oh, I am 
not going to gossip ; but I have heard about the 
fuss, and I want you to know that I admire your 
grit. Maybe I should not have let the chance 
slip ; but I can appreciate your standing for a 
principle, and I said to myself — ‘That’s the sort 
of a teacher we want.’ The boys in this neigh- 
borhood need some principle pounded into them.” 

When John had signified his willingness to 
accept the position, Mr. Scott drew from his 
pocket a contract, which was filled out and signed 
before he left the house. Reaching home he said 
to his wife — 

“There! Unless that young fellow makes a 
bigger failure than I think he is capable of doing, 
I don’t see how this district is going to get out 
of paying him two hundred dollars next spring for 
services rendered ! The colonel will have hard 
work to break up that contract. I thought I 
would make it fast, for one never knows what 
scheme he will concoct. He has no children to 
send to school ; but he may interfere for all that, 
because he is a tax-payer.” 


1 88 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


“Well, Beth, have you anything which will fit 
that?” asked John after their visitor had gone. 

“Not a thing! It is too big for me. I should 
call it a Special Providence with capitals ! ” 

“I never hoped for anything half so good. I 
thought if I could earn fifty dollars extra this 
winter I should be satisfied ; and I sometimes 
thought that I was wild to think of earning that 
amount. But two hundred dollars! Just think! 
But, Beth, if I should fail and make a fizzle of 
it!” 

“You won’t! You’ll go through with it; I feel 
it.” 

“Your faith is sometimes stronger than mine; 
I don’t understand you.” 

“Well, I understand myself, and that is all that 
is necessary.” 

“ Are you sure of that ? I sometimes doubt if 
you do understand yourself.” 

“I do; the truth is, my faith rests in you.” 

“Oh, Beth !” 

“Fact! Well, perhaps I might go a little fur- 
ther, and say my faith is in you and your God. 
I mean I have faith in Him, because I believe 
He honors the faith of those who trust Him. 
See ? ” 

“ I see ; but, Beth, if you believe that, why do 
you not trust Him for yourself?” 

“ Oh, it is so much easier to have a proxy ! ” 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


189 


“But that is not the way these things stand; 
every soul is accountable for himself ; no proxies 
are received at the court of the King. And, oh, 
Beth, does He not deal royally with us, as becom- 
eth a king ? ” 

The next day was Saturday; and, as John was 
to open school on Monday, it was necessary that 
he should go to Clayborne that day. Beth deter- 
mined to take the opportunity of making a long- 
promised visit at Dr. Watson’s. During the 
summer, John had bought a second-hand buggy, 
so that he could now take his mother and Beth to 
church or for a drive. Mrs. Watson, who was 
much of an invalid, welcomed her young guest 
very cordially. Stephen being a favorite with the 
doctor’s wife, she was prepared to like the sister. 
Beth was bright and intelligent, besides being 
very pretty. Nothing could be more becoming to 
the young girl in her freshness than the garnet 
cashmere with its velvet trimmings, and, alto- 
gether, she was a delight to Mrs. Watson. At 
dinner the hostess remarked that she was some- 
what discouraged upon the bread question. She 
said — “It has been one of the trials of my inva- 
lid state that I cannot make the bread for the 
family. It is so seldom that I have a cook who 
is a good bread-maker. No matter how per- 
fect the cooking may be in other things, the bread 
is almost invariably poor.” 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


190 

“ Bread-making seems to be almost a lost art,” 
remarked the doctor. 

“I don’t know about that,” said Stephen. 
“ Mother and Beth can make good bread.” 

“So? Can you make bread, Miss Beth?” 
asked the doctor. 

“ Indeed I can ! ” 

“Well, Laura,” addressing his wife, “I would 
suggest that you try to engage Miss Beth to sup- 
ply us with bread.” 

“How would we get it? It is too far to send 
often.” 

“Have it sent in by the Lincoln stage twice a 
week. I have eaten bread out there, and I can 
testify to Stephen’s veracity on this point.” 

“ It would add much to the comfort of this fam- 
ily if you would take pity on us,” said Mrs. Wat- 
son, addressing her guest, “and make better people 
of us, too ; for poor bread makes dyspeptics, and 
dyspepsia causes people to sin easily.” 

“I am serious,” said the doctor. 

“So am I. The question is — Will Beth do 
it?” 

“I would like to try it if mother is willing.” 

“Oh, mother will be willing,” said Stephen. 
“If Beth wanted to knead the moon into loaves 
of bread, mother would see nothing in the 
way.” 

It was finally settled that, if Mrs. Heckman did 


ROYAL BOUNTY. 


I 9 I 

not object to the arrangement, Beth was to send 
in by the stage, twice a week, four loaves of her 
sweet, nut-brown bread. 

Mrs. Heckman was a little doubtful as to the 
wisdom of the plan ; but she made no serious 
objection, and Beth became a woman of business. 
Her bread gave satisfaction, and very soon she 
had other orders, so that two days each week she 
had all she could do to supply the demand. John 
laughingly declared that she lived with her head 
in the oven, to which she replied — 

“If you knew how ambitious I am growing, 
you would say that I lived with my head in the 
clouds.” 


192 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


CHAPTER XVII 


OUTGROWING THINGS, 


“But I said unto their children in the wilderness, Walk ye not 
in the statutes of your fathers ... I am the Lord your 
God; walk in my statutes.” 


ND so it came about that a very busy winter 



El for the Heckmans was setting in. I won- 
der just how much that brief declarative sentence 
conveys to your minds. Most people imagine 
they know what a busy life is. Young women 
fill in the intervals between calls and dinners and 
parties with creating remarkable figures in Ken- 
sington or impossible landscapes in oils ; or, if 
musically inclined, they spend hours trying to 
bring out at the finger-tips the music that was 
left out of the soul ; else they dawdle away their 
leisure time over novels, and think they are “very 
busy.” Young men find that the claims of soci- 
ety, the club and the opera, added to the work of 
office hours, keep them “very busy.” But for 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


193 


John Heckman it meant rising in the darkness 
and chill of the winter mornings, building the 
kitchen fire, and going out, often through a blind- 
ing storm, to attend to the stock ; working until 
schooltime, with an interval for breakfast, then 
spending six hours in the close, stuffy atmosphere 
of the school-room ; returning home at four o’clock 
to take up the round of evening “chores” ; spend- 
ing the evenings after supper either in school 
work, or in the interest of the temperance league, 
or else in the work of the Circle. Saturdays were 
full of cutting and drawing wood from the wood- 
lot, doing, or driving to town upon, the endless 
odd jobs that are constantly recurring. He fore- 
saw, when he accepted the position, that it meant 
a hard pull and a long one, but he was young and 
vigorous and strong of soul. You say that it is 
not possible that a boy not yet eighteen could 
accomplish it all — teach school, care for the 
stock, cut the year’s wood, besides the league and 
Circle work? All I can say is, that it is true; 
this hero of mine did all this, and he did not 
break down under the strain. An ordinary boy 
could not have done it, you insist ? As to natural 
ability, John Heckman was not more than ordi- 
nary, but Dr. Watson spoke truly when he told 
Stephen that his brother had something which he 
had not; and when the Spirit of the Lord comes 
into the heart and life of a young man with His 


i 9 4 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


enlightening and strengthening power, we may 
look for extraordinary results. 

The school was large and the work hard. 
Nevertheless, John thoroughly enjoyed it, and the 
children with one voice declared that they never 
had a better teacher. Certain it is that the 
parents never before heard so much said at 
home about school and school work. The young 
teacher was enthusiastic, and his pupils caught 
the enthusiasm. The school had the unenviable 
reputation of being a hard one to manage, and 
hitherto the salary, which was thought to be 
exceptionally large for a country school, had been 
paid for managing, rather than for teaching. The 
highest recommendation that a teacher could 
bring to West Hill was that he could “govern” 
well, and some of the good people shook their 
heads gravely and feared that John would fail in 
“government.” Had they known that he gave 
very little thought to the subject, there would 
probably have been still more dubious shaking of 
heads, and more doubtful expressions of opinion. 
It was not so much theory with him, as a matter 
of course, that he gave the pupils so much to do, 
and made their work so absorbing that for the 
most part they forgot to be mischievous ; and, 
having won the respect and confidence of the 
scholars, the rest was easy. Jimmie Howland 
was about the age of Frank Heckman, a boy pos- 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


195 


sessing a quick, active brain, but physically weak 
and nervous, and so timid that he was afraid of 
even the boys of his own age. Until that winter 
his mother always came to the door of the school- 
house with him, and the teacher was requested to 
send him home a few minutes before the other 
scholars were dismissed, so that he might not 
come in contact with the rougher element of the 
school. As might have been expected by any 
one understanding the nature of boys, this care- 
fulness and exclusiveness caused the shrinking 
boy to become the target for all the indignities 
which school-boys of a certain stamp know so well 
how to invent and inflict. John spent a few days 
studying the case, and then had a quiet talk with 
Frank, who, proud of the trust and confidence of 
his brother, entered eagerly into the plans for 
making school-life more endurable to Jimmie. 
And so successfully did they push their plans that 
it was not many weeks before there was a marked 
change in the manner of the boys toward their 
hitherto persecuted school-mate, and the change 
in Jimmie, too, was quite marked. He became 
the devoted friend of the teacher, and maintained 
the position in spite of the sneers which he con- 
stantly heard at home. 

“Seems to me you don’t come home crying 
quite as often as you used to,” remarked Mr. 
Howland one day, several weeks after school 


196 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


opened. Jimmie had just come in from school, 
and, placing his books upon the counter, was 
helping himself to candy. “Are you learning to 
fight your own battles ? ” 

“I don’t have any to fight. We have got a 
teacher this winter that knows something, and 
when the boys do a mean thing, he makes them 
feel so little that they just want to crawl away out 
of sight. I know he would stand by me, so I am 
not afraid any more. And if any of them under- 
took to treat him as they did the teacher last 
winter, I’d fight on his side. I tell you, they’d 
better not try it.” 

“Well, well! So you are going to champion 
the young idiot ! ” Colonel Parsons, who, tilting 
his chair against the counter, had been a listener, 
was the last speaker. The boy replied, with a 
show of spirit unusual in him — 

“I don’t know what you mean by champion, 
but I know what idiot means, and I can tell you 
Mr. Heckman is no idiot. He knows more than 
all the rest of the folks in this neighborhood put 
together.” 

“In that case I should suppose he would be 
capable of teaching a boy like you a little man- 
ners,” said the father, somewhat disturbed. It 
might not be politic for even a saloon-keeper to 
offend Colonel Parsons. 

“He does try to,” was the quick response; 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


197 


“but I can’t stand for manners when folks say 
things about the teacher. If I pass the examin- 
ations next time, he is going to teach me Latin, 
and I am going to college and study law. And 
then I’ll go to Congress and make laws that will 
use up the liquor business.” 

“So that is the kind of teaching you have this 
winter ! Setting boys up against their fathers’ 
business does not seem to me very honorable,” 
commented the colonel 

“ I didn’t need any setting up against it. I 
hate the smell of the stuff, and I hate to have my 
father sell it. Last Fourth of July I saw it all as 
plain as anybody could, but I did not suppose I 
could do anything to help along. You see, I had 
not found out that there was any fight in me.” 

With this he gathered up his books, and went 
up-stairs to the family rooms. 

Both men laughed as he went out, and his 
father said — 

“Jimmie has always been such a sickly boy, that 
we have humored him a great deal, and allowed 
him to say just what he pleased. I have often 
told his mother that she was spoiling him. He 
has never been crossed at home, but I guess he 
has had a hard time at school, until this winter. 
He seems to have waked up considerably.” 

“He is only a child, and does not know what 
he is talking about ; but I tell you there is a good 


198 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


deal of that sort of talk going on. It is in the 
air, and even the children breathe it in.” 

“So long as it is confined to children and young 
fellows without influence, like Heckman, there is 
nothing to fear,” replied the saloon-keeper. “The 
children will outgrow the nonsense; I have seen 
temperance boys and girls before.” 

“Yes; as these boys grow older, most of them 
will see that their interests demand the sacrifice 
of these ideas, which they now think are princi- 
ples.” This from the occupant of the tilted chair. 

“That is true; so long as we can control the 
business interests of the country, we are safe from 
fanatics. As you say, when these boys grow 
older, they will be ready to see things differently ; 
and by the time they become voters we shall have 
nothing to fear from them.” 

“Still, it might be as well to put a check on 
that boy’s tongue,” remarked the colonel, as he 
brought his chair to its proper position, and, 
taking up his package of groceries, went out. 

But neither then nor ever since has any check 
been put upon Jimmie Howland’s tongue. Nei- 
ther business interest, nor the prospect of politi- 
cal honors or literary distinction, has the power to 
make him less earnest in his championship of the 
cause to which he so early devoted himself. 

Setting Jimmie Howland upon his feet, teach- 
ing him self-respect and self-confidence, arousing 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


I 99 


in him an ambition to be first a boy among boys, 
then a man among men, and awakening in him a 
love of study, was not the only work done during 
that winter’s term of school, tending toward the 
elevation of the West Hill people. This in itself 
would have made that session a memorable one; 
but there were other boys who learned valuable 
lessons, whose feet were turned into an upward 
path through the young teacher’s influence. Par- 
ents looking on knew, and sometimes spoke, of 
the earnest, faithful school-room work of the win- 
ter; pupils could have told of private talks and 
words of encouragement, hints of possibilities 
before them, tender warnings against evil ways, 
and gentle, faithful pleadings in behalf of truth 
and right ; but who shall tell of hours spent by 
the teacher alone with the Master, pleading for 
wisdom to guide aright these hearts that he 
could so easily sway, and for the faith and love 
that would enable, him to reach any that stood 
aloof? These hours, the history of which cannot 
be written, hold the secret of John Heckman’s 
success as the teacher of the West Hill school. 

The young people of the vicinity seemed to 
have caught the spirit of earnestness, and a zeal 
for study took hold of many of them. Jack Swan 
declared that the Hill was becoming so literary 
that there was no comfort in life for those who 
were of a different stamp ; and he, utterly refus- 


200 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


ing to be drawn into the world of books, spent 
more time than ever before at Howland’s. He 
was there in the dusk of a winter afternoon when 
Fred Morgan drove up in a cutter, and, running 
in, asked for Jimmie. Fred had been the ring- 
leader of the rioters, the one boy whom former 
teachers had most feared ; and while his usual 
demeanor had been commented upon, people had 
said — “He is biding his time. He will never let 
the school-master go through the term without a 
trial of strength.” Little they knew that the trial 
to which they looked forward had already taken 
place, and that it had not been the usual test of 
physical force. Fred himself could not have told 
just when he yielded and went over to the 
teacher’s side. 

“When are you going to put him out?” asked 
Mr. Howland. 

“Who?” 

“Why, that young upstart of a teacher.” 

“We don’t intend to put him out. We know 
enough to see that we have got a good teacher, 
and we mean to treat him well as long as he 
treats us as if we had souls. We are not fools.” 

“But I hear that he imposes upon you — doesn’t 
give you any chance for fun.” 

“We never had more fun; and besides, we 
have found out that fun isn’t all there is to get 
out of a living.” 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


201 


“Hear the philosopher talk!” exclaimed Jack. 
‘‘Say, now, Fred, if you will put him out, I’ll hap- 
pen along and help you.” 

“Help us! If we wanted to do anything so 
mean, we could do it without your help; but, if 
you come, we will put you out.” 

“Where are you going to-night with your fancy 
establishment? Got your mother’s afghan, too.” 

“We are going over to East Side district to a 
spelling-match. Jimmie and I are the best spell- 
ers in our school ; I am going to take him and the 
teacher along in my cutter.” 

“That’s where you ar.e going, is it? Say, 
there is a good place just beyond Murphy’s to tip 
over; it would be easy enough to roll the school* 
master down the bank and give him a ducking 
in the ditch. I noticed this afternoon that it was 
half -full of water, and it won’t freeze much to- 
night. ” 

“Jack Swan ! What do you take me for?” said 
the boy indignantly ; “ I am not such a knave as 
that ! When I take anybody for a drive under 
my protection I don’t turn traitor. Besides, you 
may as well understand that we are the school- 
master’s friends. There isn’t a boy who wouldn’t 
show fight if anybody touched him.” 

“Fred, I am really afraid something is the 
matter with you. Your folks should be warned; 
you might become dangerous.” 


202 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


“I might be dangerous under some circum- 
stances to such fellows as you ! ” responded the 
5 irate Fred. Then, suddenly controlling himself, 
he said — “Jack, I don’t blame you for supposing 
that I would be ready to listen to your schemes 
for playing a trick on Mr. Heckman; but you 
may as well understand that I am done with that 
sort of thing.” 

“It looks as though we had another saint 
amongst us,” said Jack, turning away with a 
laugh to answer a call from some of his set in 
the card-room. Presently Jimmie appeared, his 
mother following him with extra wraps and cau- 
tions regarding exposure. These Jimmie was in- 
clined to reject, saying he was tired of being 
coddled like a baby. 

“It is not cold, Mrs. Howland,” said Fred. “I 
do not think you need be anxious; it is thawing.” 

“Yes; and it is just the dampness that is bad 
for Jimmie’s throat.” 

“But, mother, I haven’t had a touch of sore 
throat this winter. I am outgrowing it.” 

A thoughtful person would have said that sore 
throats were not the only things that the boy was 
outgrowing. 

As the winter wore away, and there was no 
outbreak of insubordination in school, and the 
trustee was not once called in to settle a diffi- 
culty, that gentleman chuckled, and congratulated 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


203 


himself again and again upon his own apprecia- 
tion of John’s good qualities that had led him to 
the choice ; and I am sorry to say that he never 
once thanked his wife for the suggestion. In 
fact, I am inclined to think that he thought the 
idea originated with himself. 

Of course there were grumblers ; there are 
chronic grumblers everywhere. There were those 
who, as Mr. Scott had prophesied, complained of 
high wages paid to a young man without experi- 
ence. To these Mr. Scott made reply by ask- 
ing — “What good did experience do the teacher 
we employed last winter? He had a new experi- 
ence here when the boys put him out of the 
school-house and locked the doors.” 

When it was noised about that a Latin class 
was to be formed there was more grumbling. 
There were those who said that the teacher was 
paid for giving instruction in common branches, 
and that they did not propose to pay for time 
spent in teaching a few pupils Latin. It was 
taking time from those who did not wish to take 
up the study ; public schools were not the place 
for such things. It was the same question that 
is being discussed in more august bodies than 
those which convened in grocery, saloo.n or black- 
smith shop at West Hill. But when it was 
known that the Latin class recited out of legal 
school hours, there was no chance for complaint ; 


204 


OUTGROWING THINGS. 


and the whole ground must needs be gone over 
once more in the search for a legitimate cause of 
complaint. Finally the fault-finders seemed to 
have become discouraged ; and teacher and pupils 
became more and more absorbed in their work. 
The Latin class was a delight to John, though, as 
he listened to the repetition of the familiar declen- 
sions and conjugations, sad thoughts were awak- 
ened of his own interrupted studies. But bravely 
he put these aside, saying — “Though I do not go 
to college myself, it looks as though I might send 
half a dozen or so in my place; and there are 
boys in this school who will yet be heard from.” 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


205 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A MINORITY REPORT. 

“ And Caleb said, .... Let us go up at once and pos- 
sess it.” 

M EANTIME there were taking place in the 
neighborhood other events of interest, 
which demonstrated the truth that we do not 
stand alone. The threads of our lives are so 
interwoven with other lives that whatever affects 
the color or texture of our web may change the 
tint or fibre of theirs. And the sudden snapping 
of the cord of friendship between the Heckmans 
and Colonel Parsons was not without complica- 
tions. Especially the plans of the young people 
were disarranged. Schemes which had been pro- 
jected, and which the colonel was expected to 
further, had to be given up because of the widen- 
ing breach. 

In pursuance of their resolve to observe appro- 
priately in some public manner all the holidays, 


20 6 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


they had arranged for a Thanksgiving dinner to 
be given at the colonel’s house. It was to be a 
real old-fashioned dinner, with old-time dishes 
served upon old-time crockery, as far as possible. 
For weeks the girls had been studying the old 
stained and yellowed manuscript cookbooks of 
the mothers and grandmothers, and many test 
dishes were set before the families of the neigh- 
borhood, who patiently breakfasted, dined and 
supped upon the results of the efforts of these 
experimental cooks. Rob Davis came into the 
committee meeting one evening saying — “We 
have all been suffering at our house from an 
attack of dyspepsia. Lizzie has been feeding us 
on ‘lady cake’ and ‘Marlborough tarts.’ The 
cake had a heart of stone, and the tarts — well, I 
hope our dispositions will not become of the same 
degree of tartness.” 

However, successes as well as failures in this 
line were reported, and the fame of the young 
cooks having spread, it was expected that many 
people would be glad to be spared the trouble of 
getting an elaborate dinner at home, and would at 
the same time enjoy the social gathering of 
friends and neighbors. The affair was in charge 
of the temperance league, the profits to go into 
their treasury. Colonel Parsons was not a mem- 
ber of the league, but so long as its work did not 
directly interfere with his business interests, he 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


207 


favored the plans of the young people. To his 
mind there was no immediate connection between 
opening his house for what he called “a rousing 
good time” and the annihilation of the liquor 
traffic. He did not look for anything to come of 
it beyond the pleasure of a neighborhood gather- 
ing. Perhaps in his heart he was a little proud of 
the distinction of being known as the patron of a 
wide-awake set of young people. But the dis- 
agreement with John changed the tenor of his 
thought, and made him the avowed enemy of any 
plan in which his former favorite was interested. 
He said the young people might have a dinner at 
his house — for that matter, he had just as lief get 
up a dinner for them — but no Heckman, nor, 
indeed, any member of that temperance league, 
need look for a welcome. In consequence, the 
plan was quietly dropped, and the people of West 
Hill ate their Thanksgiving dinners at home. It 
is to be hoped that Colonel Parsons enjoyed his. 

Some time previous to this, at a meeting of 
the league, a committee was appointed to devise 
means by which they might, if possible, rid them- 
selves of the presence of the grocery saloon in 
their midst. The opposition of the leading man 
in the community was not without its effect upon 
the membership of the league, and many silently 
withdrew from any active part in the organiza- 
tion ; and when, early in December, the commit- 


208 


A MINORITY RERORT. 


tee reported, it was to the effect that nothing 
could be done. The saloon was to them a walled 
city, intrenched in law, bristling with battlements 
from which license flags floated, defended by 
giant politicians. And, indeed, they were not 
sure that it was not a necessity and a benefit to 
the community. The store was certainly a great 
accommodation, and it could not be made profit- 
able without the added business of liquor-selling. 
And, any way, they said — “Everything is against 
us. We are weak, unable to contend against the 
liquor fraternity ; as well might a grasshopper 
contend with a giant.” 

“Humph!” It was Beth who uttered this 
exclamation. She was only wondering if the 
speaker intended to quote Scripture. But Rob 
had another thought, which he expressed — 

“Out West an army of grasshoppers is not 
looked upon as a very insignificant foe to contend 
with.” 

The committee paid no heed to these side 
remarks, but concluded their report by advising a 
quiet submission to the necessary evil, and recom- 
mending that the league should confine itself to 
the quiet circulation of the pledge, judicious dis- 
tribution of literature, and the holding of occa- 
sional gospel temperance meetings. 

There was, however, a minority report. Two 
of the committee disagreed with the majority. 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


209 


They said that, although the difficulties were 
great, they believed they were “able to over- 
come.” If the people of West Hill were deter- 
mined that no liquor should be sold in their 
midst, and should so resolve, the matter could be 
carried through. Although the larger number 
accepted the conclusions of the majority report, 
there were a few who agreed with the minority, 
and were quite disinclined to abandon all effort to 
free themselves from what they felt to be a curse 
to their community. But in vain these few zeal- 
ous ones set forth the fact that the saloon was 
destroying the comfort and happiness of their 
homes, the peace and prosperity of their neigh- 
borhood ; that by its work mothers and wives and 
sisters were carrying about broken hearts ; that 
children were suffering for food and clothing, and 
being robbed of the birthright of childhood, a 
father’s tender love and happy memories of home 
joys. The report was accepted and its recom- 
mendations adopted, and the meeting adjourned. 

“This neighborhood has come to a Jordan,” 
said Beth. 

“What do you mean?” asked John, taking the 
batter-spoon from her hand and giving a vigorous 
beating to the bread-sponge she was mixing. 

“I mean just what I say. Over on the other 
side is a condition of things to be desired — tem- 
perance, morality, peace and prosperity. As a 


210 


A MINORITY RERORT. 


neighborhood we have come pretty near the cross- 
ing, and that roll of the waves, along with the 
story of the spies, frightens the people ; they are 
afraid. You know how it was, and it is just so 
here. We won’t go over, we are just going to 
settle down and stay in the wilderness. Mr. 
Scott wants to circulate the pledge and educate 
the children, so that, the springs being cut off, 
the river will go dry of itself ; Colonel Parsons 
don’t want to go over at all, because the business 
prospects in his line are not so good over there ; 
and, the funniest of all, Mr. Davis thinks we must 
wait until they build a sort of bridge. And it 
isn’t a bridge at all, but just something thrown 
part of the way across, from which we can jump 
over upon the other bank. It hasn’t been tested 
yet, but they are going to try it in Chicago or 
somewhere, and if it works it will be the thing to 
do. Meantime we must do the best we can to 
guard our homes and our friends from falling into 
the power of the enemy.” 

“But, Beth, you know what they say is true — 
the law is on the side of the saloon.” 

“The law does not say that Howland shall 
keep a saloon in this neighborhood ; it allows him 
to do so if the people consent. The people ought 
not to consent.” 

“ How many men do you think would sign a 
protest?” aslced John. 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


21 I 


“ I don’t know; but we will know before long 
just how many will.” 

A few days after this, a quarrel at Howland’s, 
which came to a fight and sent one of the young 
men of the vicinity home with a bruised head, 
somewhat aroused the people, and at a special 
meeting of the league it was determined to act 
upon Beth’s idea and find out just how many 
were willing to sign a petition to have the place 
closed. 

Very quietly and very diligently they worked. 
After more than one “whereas,” setting forth 
the grievances, the petitioners begged that for 
humanity’s sake Mr. Howland would desist from 
his business of dealing out strong drink. This 
petition was signed by nearly every woman and 
young girl in the neighborhood. So quickly and 
quietly had the work been done that Mr. How- 
land was surprised at being waited upon by a 
large delegation, headed by several young ladies. 
Beth Heckman asked permission to read to him 
a paper which she held in her hand, and he 
courteously gave permission. 

As she finished reading, she handed him the 
paper with its list of names, asking him to look 
at them. He took it, but laughed derisively, 
saying — 

“Do you suppose I will throw away my means 
of getting a living for the whims and prayers of 


212 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


a few women ? Why, you haven’t a name on this 
paper besides women. You couldn’t get a man to 
sign it ; men know better. Women are fools, 
anyway.” 

Beth and Lizzie stepped aside as Dean Wilson 
came forward. 

“Mr. Howland, I was one of your best custom- 
ers not so very long ago, but I have seen my 
folly, and to-day you must number me with those 
of whom you speak so contemptuously. I ask 
you to look at this list.” 

It was another string of facts tersely put, and 
a list of names which astonished the proprietor 
of the house. This was signed by men — men of 
influence in the community ; and right alongside 
the names of men who never patronized the 
saloon were found the names of several stagger- 
ing, reeling drunkards, men who longed in their 
better moments to be free from the power of the 
saloon. 

“How many more of these petitions do you 
expect me to listen to before I turn you all out- 
of-doors?” was the angry inquiry. 

“We expect you to listen to reason, so that 
there will be no need of any further petitioning,” 
replied Dean, quietly. 

The formality of presenting the written peti- 
tions over, women with pale, wan faces, with eyes 
sunken from privation and dimmed with tears. 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


213 


came forward to plead their cause — to plead for 
their husbands and their sons. 

“It is humiliating,” said a looker-on, “that 
in this nineteenth century, in a civilized, not 
to say Christian, community, women should be 
forced to plead with men for their homes and 
their happiness. The law-makers should see to 
this. One could scarcely blame these sufferers 
if they took desperate measures to rid themselves 
of the enemy of their homes.” 

“This scene has made a thorough temperance 
man of me,” was the declaration of another 
looker-on. “I tell you, it shakes a man up to 
look at Mrs. Swan pleading with that hard man 
for her husband and son.” 

It was of no avail so far as they could see. 
Howland laughed scornfully. He had a license. 
“Go to the law-makers,” he said. “I am not 
such an idiot as to throw away my chances of 
making money for the whims and requests of a 
lot of crazy-headed fanatics.” 

“Mr. Howland, have we our answer?” asked 
Dean Wilson. 

With a volley of profanity Howland assured 
them that nothing could change him. 

“Do not be too sure of that,” replied Dean. 
“You should remember that the Lord Almighty 
is on the side of a righteous cause, and the anger 
of Jehovah is something to think of.” 


214 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


“ I have heard things like that before, but noth- 
ing ever comes of it.” And Mr. Howland turned 
carelessly away, as if to end the interview. But 
Dean Wilson laid his hand upon the man’s arm 
and said — 

“I wish that you had decided differently, for 
the day will come when you will wish you had lis- 
tened to our pleadings.” His hand was rudely 
shaken off, and the man only laughed scornfully. 

As they walked home John said — “Well, 
Dean, it has turned out as you expected, I sup- 
pose. We knew in our hearts that nothing would 
come of it.” 

“Something has come of it,” said the other. 

“How do you mean ! We have succeeded in 
making him very angry.” 

“What I mean is this: We are stronger as a 
temperance organization ; we have shown our- 
selves ready to do hard, disagreeable things. We 
have seen something of the misery of drunkards’ 
families, and something of the hardness of drunk- 
ard-makers. And Howland is more than angry; 
he is disturbed. He knows that there is a strong 
, power behind him, and he realizes that there is a 
stronger behind us.” 

People were astonished at the stand that Dean 
Wilson was taking in the affairs of the neighbor- 
hood. Since that evening when he turned back to 
the Heckman parlor, instead of following Jack 


A MINORITY REPORT. 


215 


Swan and Stephen, a change had come over him ; 
not all at once, but so gradually that none thought 
to date it from any special point or event. Since 
the organization of the C. L. S. C., the change 
had been more marked. There was amongst 
them all no more enthusiastic worker or more 
earnest student. A new element seemed to have 
entered into his character. 


21 6 


A PRAYER. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

A PRAYER. 


“ Canst thou by searching find out God ? ” 

I T was past the midnight hour, and still John 
Heckman sat in his room with bowed head 
and a heavy heart. Two events of the day which 
had just turned into yesterday had combined to 
cause the burden he was bearing to press very 
heavily upon him. Mr. Munson had, as he 
expressed it, “borne his cross” in speaking to 
John in regard to his “duty as a Christian to let 
his light shine amidst the darkness of West Hill.” 
He managed to be passing the school-house just 
as the day’s session closed, and going in, said — 

“ I have been wanting an opportunity to speak 
to you ; it seems to me you are making a mistake 
with all these societies and circles, that are only 
just worldly affairs. As a Christian, you ought to 
introduce some religious service here. I told 
Dean when he was at our house that if it were a 


A PRAYER. 


217 


prayer-meeting you were starting here I should 
quite approve. Excepting yourself, I suppose 
there is not a praying man in the neighborhood. 
It is a sad state of affairs.” 

“I know,” replied John ; “but how can we have 
a prayer-meeting if there are none to pray? I 
would be willing to join any one in undertaking to 
sustain such a service. Would you come up here 
and start a prayer-meeting?” 

“ Oh, I do not feel that I am called to the 
work ! My duty is to our church at Clayborne ; 
the church is in a low state and needs my help ; 
and that is another thing I wanted to speak to 
you about — your duty to the church. I never 
see you and your mother at prayer-meeting on 
Wednesday evenings. A young man ought to be 
more particular about attending upon the ordi- 
nances of God’s house.” 

“ Mr. Munson, you must remember that we live 
nearly two miles farther from the church than 
you do, and that we have heavy cares laid upon us 
here at home. I do not see how it would be pos- 
sible for me to go to Clayborne for the mid-week 
service without neglecting other duties.” 

“Duties never conflict,” said Mr. Munson, 
solemnly. 

“So I think; it may be that I have a duty here 
which I have not taken up. I do not see my way 
to it just yet ; but I have wished that some 


218 


A PRAYER. 


one might come out here and start a Sunday 
School.” 

“Young man, you cannot lay your duty over 
upon some one else’s shoulders.” 

“Nor do I wish to; I only want to know that 
it is my duty.” 

“How can it be otherwise? We are com- 
manded to let our light shine. And you, stand- 
ing alone here, ought to be a light to illuminate 
the whole of this darkened community.” 

“And do you think that trying to sustain a 
prayer-meeting alone is the only way I can let my 
light shine?” asked John, smiling. 

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Your daily walk and con- 
versation should set forth the beauty of the gos- 
pel. But as a means of grace to this community 
a public service seems important.” 

John was silent. He could not tell this man of 
the seed he was dropping into hearts here and 
there; indeed, he did not know himself all that he 
was doing by his earnest, consistent life ; he did 
not know that his sacrifices for principle would 
yet bear abundant fruit. Mr. Munson did not 
know of the agencies set in motion, which were 
quietly uplifting the tone of society at West Hill. 
Had he known of the burden already resting 
upon the heart of his young friend, of how often 
the people of the neighborhood were borne before 
the Lord by this faithful servant, he might have 


A PRAYER. 


2 19 

spoken only words of encouragement ; or if not — 
and I am not sure that he knew how to speak 
encouraging words — he might at least have been 
more tender in the “discharge of his duty.” He 
was a little disappointed in the result of the inter- 
view ; but he told his wife that he had done his 
part, and his conscience was clear. And John, 
humiliated and seeming to hear a voice saying — 
“This thing is too heavy for thee; thou art not 
able to perform it thyself alone” — went about his 
work in great heaviness of heart. 

It was the evening for the Circle. Beth, eager 
and enthusiastic as usual, found John disinclined 
to talk, and wondered a little thereat. Once or 
twice during the evening John caught a gleam in 
Tom Munson’s eyes, which was partly amusement 
and partly sympathy ; and when they were break- 
ing up, Tom whispered — 

“Never mind, old fellow! I heard father tell- 
ing mother something about his call. I suspect 
the interview was not very inspiriting to you. 
But just keep on your own gait ; you are all right. 
Father means well, but he don’t understand you. 
Some day when I have a chance I’ll tell you 
something encouraging.” 

These sentences, uttered with a half-serious, 
half-comic air, made John smile in spite of his 
depression, and Tom seemed satisfied with the 
result of his effort at consolation. 


220 


A PRAYER. 


Beth walked home with Rob and Lizzie, while 
John remained behind to finish his work of look- 
ing over school exercises. It was nearly eleven 
o’clock when he was through and ready to go 
home. Meantime, Mamie Howard declined the 
company of the members of the Circle who were 
going her way, saying — 

“Clarence is waiting for me at the store.” 
Going in to inquire for him, she was told that he 
would be ready in a few moments ; would she 
step into Mrs. Howland’s sitting-room and wait ? 

“Thank you, but if he will be ready soon I will 
, wait here.” And she waited, until presently Clar- 
ence himself came from the back room, saying — 

“ Marne, why don’t you go home with the 
others? I am not going yet awhile.” 

“But, Clarence, the others have gone; and 
besides, you told me that you would go with me if 
I would stop here.” 

“Well, I am not ready. You go up and sit 
with Mrs. Howland until I am ready.” 

In vain she urged that it was late, and that 
Mrs. Howland would not want to sit up for her. 
Clarence would not yield, and she would not go 
without him ; so she waited, sitting for a while 
with Mrs. Howland, and then going down to try 
to coax him away. 

“Can’t you send him home?” she entreated of 
Mr. Howland. 


A PRAYER. 


221 


“Why, that would hardly be courteous, would 
it?” he asked with a wicked laugh. 

“It would at least be human,” she responded, 
bitterly. 

“Now, my young friend, if you are going to 
undertake this job of escorting your brother home 
whenever he stays out longer than your puritan- 
ical notions allow, you will have to nerve your- 
self to meet disagreeable things. You must be 
aware that at this hour we are not used to lady 
visitors.” 

Bravely she stood her ground and waited, until 
at last, Howland, seeing she would not go without 
him, advised Clarence to go, saying it was about 
time to close up. Marne thought she was glad to 
get out into the night, but she found it was no 
light task she had undertaken. Clarence stag- 
gered along in the half-trodden path through the 
snow, seeming about to fall at every step. The 
night was very cold, and their progress was so slow 
that the girl was becoming benumbed with the cold. 

“ What shall I do ? ” she said within herself. 
Just then, John, having locked the door of the 
school-house, stepped out from the shadow of the 
building into the bright moonlight. Recognizing 
him, she called out — 

“Oh, John! Will you help me ? ” 

Checking his rapid strides, he turned to meet a 
face pale with terror. 


222 


A PRAYER. 


“Why, Mame! How is this? Have you not 
been home ? ” 

“No; I have been waiting for Clarence.” 

“Waiting! Where?” 

“At Howland’s. I could not go home without 
him. Mother would be so anxious.” 

John had taken the stumbling young man by 
the arm, and was with some difficulty guiding 
his uncertain steps, trying to sustain the swaying 
form. It was a slow and wearisome walk. Clar- 
ence leaned bodily upon his escort, and once or 
twice stumbled and fell in spite of John’s efforts 
to hold him up. 

They made no effort at conversation after those 
few explanatory sentences, and at length, almost 
exhausted, they reached Mr. Howard’s door, and 
with some difficulty succeeded in getting Clarence 
up the steps and into the house. 

“Can I do anything more?” asked John, after 
they had disposed of the almost unconscious 
young man upon the couch in the sitting-room. 

“I think not,” replied Mame, the color coming 
back to her face, though she was still quivering in 
every nerve. “You have done me a great ser- 
vice. I cannot thank you as I would like to. I 
am sure I could never have brought him home by 
myself.” 

“ Mame, has this happened before ? ” 

“He has never been so helpless as to-night. I 


A PRAYER. 


223 


have been after him two or three times this 
winter, and he has been willing to come; but 
to-night Jack Swan kept urging him to one more 
game, and kept filling the glasses. Of course 
Howland did not sell Clarence any liquor while I 
was there. He is very cautious.” 

“It is hard that we have to endure this thing,” 
said John. 

“Yes; and, as he said the other day, he has 
everything on his side.” 

“Not everything. We have God.” 

“We claim to have God on our side, but He 
does not seem to care.” Her tone was bitter, 
and she accompanied her words by a little gesture 
of impatience. 

“I don’t like to hear you say that.” 

“How can I help it? Here’s my only brother; 
look at him in there ! And I am utterly power- 
less against this giant enemy. There isn’t a 
single thing I can do, and as things are, there is 
no one with an arm strong enough to save him. 
God could crush this enemy as easily as I could 
crush a worm under my feet, but He lets the 
work of ruin go on. I do not understand Him.” 

“His ways are ‘past finding out.’ Sometimes 
we can see the meaning of His dealings, but I 
think we are oftener in the dark, and must just 
trust in His love, believing that He will do what 
is best. We cannot see the end of things.” 


224 


A PRAYER. 


“ I know ; and you people say the right will 
prevail at last. But what good will it do me after 
my dear one is ruined, and our home and happi- 
ness destroyed ? ” 

“Marne, in the olden time there was one who, 
in the midst of suffering, said — ‘Though he slay 
me, yet will I trust in him.’” 

She shook her head very sadly, as she said, 
hopelessly — 

“I don’t understand it at all. It seems to me 
like a want of feeling when any one can talk like 
that. This faith that you Christians make so 
much of must be a comfortable thing, but I 
should not want to get where I was willing to be 
crushed under such sorrow as this.” 

What could he say to her? He was only a 
boy, with a boy’s experience and a boy’s knowl- 
edge of the needs of the human heart, and he 
seemed to have no message given him for this girl 
in her sorrow. He wanted to bring to her some 
tender, loving promise out of God’s word, but 
none that seemed suitable came to him, and he 
only said, as he was leaving — 

“Mame, once when the disciples were in deep 
sorrow they ‘went and told Jesus.’ I wish you 
would go and tell Him.” 

John was perplexed and troubled. Here was a 
young heart struggling with a heavy burden, not 
knowing where to lay it down, and he, knowing, 


A PRAYER. 


225 


had not been able to tell her in language which 
she could understand. It had been so long since 
he had had any one with whom he could speak 
familiarly of spiritual things that it had become 
difficult for him to express himself, and he real- 
ized that he had failed miserably in his attempt to 
help Marne in her sorrow. 

It was past midnight when he reached home. 
Beth was awake, and called out — 

“Why, John, I was just thinking about going 
after you. Isn’t it very late?” 

“Rather; but I found things to do which I did 
not expect. I am sorry you have been worried. 
Good-night,” and he passed on to his room, think- 
ing — “Hers is a light anxiety compared with 
Marne’s. I suppose at the worst she would only 
imagine that I might be sick. I trust she will 
never have that other anxiety about any one dear 
to her.” 

In the silence and chill of that winter night 
there came over him a sense of loneliness such as 
he had never known. Mr. Munson’s call and its 
object seemed to him unwarranted and uncalled- 
for. It was hard, when he thought he was doing 
all he could, and was working against such odds, 
both in his efforts to lift the family out of their 
financial straits, and in his school work, and in 
the effort to advance the public interests, to be 
thus rebuked for not doing more. But, while he 


226 


A PRAYER. 


looked upon it as an unjust criticism rather 
harshly put, he knew that it had in it some truth, 
so that, unwelcome though it was, he could not 
put it aside entirely. He realized as never 
before that as a Christian he stood alone among 
the young people. Even Beth, who entered so 
eagerly into all his schemes for improvement and 
progress at home and in the neighborhood, who 
even left him far behind in her enthusiasm and 
zeal, who was full of plans and methods and 
expedients to further their prosperity, and who 
labored earnestly that the intellectual and moral 
status of the community might be elevated, 
stopped there. She could not enter into the 
spiritual life which was to him the essence of life 
itself. In his approaches to the mercy seat he 
must go alone, because she would stop outside. 
In his longing he cried out — “If I had just one 
Christian friend to work with me, I could go 
forward with courage. They were ready enough 
to join a temperance society and a literary circle, 
but were I to propose a prayer circle, there would 
not be one to join. Mr. Munson thinks I have 
been putting the intellectual before the spiritual. 
Perhaps I have in appearance, but it was only 
because I have not known how to introduce the 
other, not because I undervalue it. I have set a 
high moral standard before my pupils, hoping to 
lead them step by step up to Christ.” And there 


A PRAYER. 


227 


in the darkness he waited long before the Lord, 
praying again and again this prayer — “Send 
some one here to help, some fisher of men who 
may know how to reach out and gather in the 
souls. Is there not among thy children some one 
to send?” 

Again was the promise to be verified — “Before 
they call I will answer.” God was already 
answering that prayer of His servant, and in a 
way that John would never in his wildest imagin- 
ings have planned. And yet the way was easy 
and simple and straightforward, as God’s ways 
always are. 


228 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


CHAPTER XX, 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


“And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you 
fishers of men. And they straightway left their nets, and fol- 
lowed him.” 



LAN WILSON had been absent from home 


^ for a week or two. At a point in his home- 
ward journey he entered a railway coach that was 
well filled with ycung people — young men and 
young women — many of whom wore badges the 
meaning of which he could not make out. 

He caught snatches of conversation which 
interested and puzzled him. Said one — 

“Do you know who is to lead the lookout com- 
mittees’ conference?” 

“Mr. Smith; I think he is a good leader, and I 
am sorry that none of our committee will be 
present.” 

And again — “Have you begun to plan for the 
National ? ” 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 229 

Another asked — “Do you use the uniform top- 
ics ? ” and the reply was — “Well, no; we are not 
using them this year ; we selected from them, and 
put in others which the committee thought better 
suited to our needs ; but I cannot say that I think 
we bettered the matter. You are using them, I 
suppose ? ” 

“Yes; we think it is such a pleasant idea, and 
we find the topics very well adapted to our 
wants.” 

“Do you have a hand-shaking committee?” 
asked a bright young fellow, shaking hands right 
and left. 

“ I wonder what it is all about ! ” said Dean 
within himself. 

Presently a young man took the vacant seat 
beside him, remarking — “I observe that you wear 
the C. L. S. C. pin. Allow me to claim kinship.” 
Whereupon they shook hands, and plunged into 
an animated conversation regarding the Chautau- 
qua idea, discussing the course for the year, the 
memoranda, the seals, the widening of the circles, 
and other matters connected with the scheme. 
The stranger had visited Chautauqua, and had 
been present on Recognition Day, and he had a 
very fascinating way of describing the unique 
exercises of that day of days. He told of the 
gathering of the “clans” from all nations and 
climes ; of the procession ; of the Messenger with 


230 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


the Keys, of the Golden Gate, the entrance of 
the graduating class to St. Paul’s Grove, the pass- 
ing of the arches and the welcome; of the Hall in 
the Grove ; of the watch-fires and the Round 
Tables; of the public Recognition — all of which 
was of absorbing interest to Dean. 

After a while, when these two began to feel 
as if they had known each other always, the 
stranger, who had given his name as Fields, 
said — “And are you a C. E., too?” touching 
his badge as he spoke. 

“No; and what is more, I do not even know 
what the letters signify.” 

The other laughed pleasantly. “We flatter 
ourselves that we have spread over the continent 
pretty well ; but it appears that there are places 
where we are yet unknown.” 

“Oh, my ignorance is no indication that you 
are not famous, nor is my lack of familiarly 
with the symbols very strange ; I have only lately 
begun to take an interest . in things of this sort. 
I have never happened to come upon this in my 
reading. There may be a C. E., as you call it, in 
our vicinity, for aught I know.” 

And now another long talk followed ; this time 
more earnest and in more serious vein than 
before, as if the topics touched a lower depth in 
the heart. Dean was interested in the story of 
his new friend, as he told how from a bit of seed- 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


231 


sowing in the Master’s name, in a parsonage par- 
lor in an Eastern city, this organization had grown 
up and spread all over the country, until in many 
localities a church without a Society of Christian 
Endeavor was the exception. 

Dean said afterwards — “He took it for granted 
that I was a Christian, and I found it growing 
more and more difficult to undeceive him, and I 
finally gave it up and sailed along under false 
colors.” 

Presently a bright thought struck this enthusi- 
astic Christian Endeayorer. 

“ I think you said you would be obliged to wait 
several hours in the city for a train out on your 
road ? As I said, we are on our way to a district 
conference, and you must come with us ; I am 
sure you will find the exercises interesting, and 
you may get something worth taking home with 
you. If the thing is new to you, it will be the 
more interesting.” 

Dean would have declined this invitation on the 
plea of being a stranger and not a member of the 
organization ; but Mr. Fields urged the matter, 
saying — “You are not a stranger; you and I are 
old friends of two hours, standing ! Besides, no 
one remains long a stranger in Christian En- 
deavor circles.” 

And thus it happened that Dean Wilson, to his 
great astonishment, found himself at a religious 


232 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


gathering. He had never before in all his life 
made one of an assembly of this character. He 
sometimes went to church, but by no means regu- 
larly. He had as a boy gone to Sunday School 
now and then, but his knowledge of Christianity 
as a force in the hearts of men, of methods of 
Christian work, or of the aims of the workers, 
was exceedingly limited. No wonder he was sur- 
prised to find himself at a Christian conference, 
but what surprised him even more was to be 
treated as an honored guest, being introduced 
as — “My friend, Mr. Wilson, from Clayborne.” 

Now this was rather an unusual position for a 
young man who had never been claimed as any- 
body’s friend, who had scarcely ever in his life 
been called “Mr. Wilson,” and whose presence 
had never been of sufficient importance anywhere 
to make his place of residence a matter worth 
mentioning. Inwardly he chuckled a little over 
“the mistake” they were making; but he followed 
his friend Mr. Fields into a pew near the front, and 
gave grave and proper attention to the services. 

Naturally intelligent and quick-witted, he was 
able to grasp the situation, and to get the drift of 
things in the business sessions, as well as to fol- 
low the speakers in their line of thought. When 
he had listened to a hundred or more young peo- 
ple speaking in rapid succession of their love of 
Christ and devotion to His service, and when he 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 233 

had heard the brief but telling reports of the dele- 
gates from many local societies, the thought came 
to him that these young people seemed to con- 
sider it an honor and a privilege to call them- 
selves Christians, and to delight in the service of 
Christ. He said to himself — “I have not heard 
anything about religion as something to die with ; 
but they all seem to be living it right along, and 
to think that is what it is for. Instead of being 
ashamed or afraid to show it, they rather glory in 
it. I do not believe that any of them ever lived 
in a place like West Hill, where being a Christian 
would mean being a target for sneers and ridicule. 
Yet there’s John ; but then, he has not lived there 
all his life, and people have never known him 
except as a Christian.” 

Again he thought — “I have not heard a 
gloomy thing so far. They are as cheerful a set 
of people as I ever saw together. Up our way 
people seem to think that religion is something 
which is more comfortable to have as little of as 
possible until one comes to die, and then he needs 
to get hold of all he can. It appears that I have 
been holding wrong ideas about it ; but then, 
how should I know ? I have never known many 
Christians intimately. There’s John; he is like 
these people ; he has the same look on his face. 
I just wonder how Mr. Fields came to mistake 
me for- one. I haven’t that look.” 


234 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


The programme was varied, and each new exer- 
cise was more interesting than the one before .it. 
Gradually his growing absorption in the proceed- 
ings caused him to forget the novelty of his posi- 
tion, and by the time the slips were passed, that 
questions might be prepared for the “Drawer,” 
Dean Wilson had come to feel that he some way 
belonged to the conference, and had decided that 
the train might go without him. Any way, they 
did not expect him home until to-morrow, and he 
might as well stay to see it out. He stayed ; and 
he wrote out a question which he dropped in with 
others with the thought — “ There, I wonder what 
can be said to that! I think it will puzzle their 
wise heads.” 

A bright, energetic young man handled the 
questions with unusual ability ; and sometimes, as 
an important question called it out, with great 
seriousness. Presently he read out Dean’s ques- 
tion — “ Given, a hamlet four or five miles from 
any church, the people not attending any religious 
service, and among a large number of young peo- 
ple only one Christian — a young man; would 
there be any chance for Christian Endeavor 
work there ? ” 

When Dean wrote that question he was think- 
ing of John Heckman, and wondering whether, if 
John knew about this organization, he would not 
want to start a society at West Hill. 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


235 


The leader said — “That appears at first thought 
both an unusual case and a discouraging one ; yet 
I should say to that young man, Organize /” The 
peculiar emphasis upon that last word caused a 
ripple of laughter to run through the audience, but 
the speaker went on earnestly — “The constitu- 
tion would necessarily have to be adapted to the 
locality ; but if any number of these young people 
would be willing to join, even as associate mem- 
bers, a society having for its avowed object the 
promotion of Christian growth, it would be a 
blessed thing to gather them in.” After a few 
more earnest words, he added — “I will ask the 
one who wrote that question to grant me an inter- 
view at the close of this session.” 

“Likely I will! ” thought Dean. “I’ll get right 
out of this as soon as it is over ; there’s no telling 
what absurd thing I will get into if I stay much 
longer. I’ll slip away at the first opportunity.” 

But he did not ; whether it was some solemn 
words spoken in answer to other questions, or 
whether it was the tender and sweet closing exer- 
cise, I do not know ; more probably, however, it 
was the gentle influence of the Spirit of God, 
working, it may be, through these agencies, that 
induced him to give up his plan of hurrying 
away. Instead, he went forward, and in the 
midst of the general handshaking he found an 
opportunity to say quietly to the last speaker — 


236 HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 

“ I believe you wanted to see me.” 

“Oh, you are the one I am looking for! Yes, 
I wanted to ask you if you do not think there 
might be others who, when the test came, would 
be willing to take a stand beside you for Christ?” 

Then, as Dean hesitated, seeming to be, as he 
really was, at a loss for a reply, the other contin- 
ued — “I think you are Mr. Wilson from Clay- 
borne, or near there ? Well, I am going to 
Lincoln in a week or two ; and if I can be of 
any assistance to you, it is not far out of my way 
to visit you, and I hope that we may find some 
others willing to confess Christ.” 

Dean Wilson felt that the time had come when 
he must undeceive these people. At least, he 
must explain to this gentleman. He managed to 
stammer out — 

“You misunderstand me; I did put in that 
question, but I am not the young man referred 
to. I was thinking of a freind of mine.” 

“Oh, the neighborhood to which you refer is 
not where you live ? I see ! ” 

“Yes, I live there.” 

The puzzled look that swept over the face of 
the young man, who still held his hand in a close 
grasp, would have amused Dean Wilson at almost 
any other time ; but he was himself too much per- 
plexed with the situation to notice it. For once 
he was quite unable to think of anything to say. 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


237 


“And you are not the Christian young man? 
Do you mean to say that you are not a Chris 
tian ?” was the next inquiry. 

“I mean to say just that.” 

For a moment the two young men stood look- 
ing into each other’s faces. In one the puzzled 
expression was giving place first to a disappointed, 
then a longing, expression ; while the cheeks of 
the other flushed slightly with embarrassment at 
the position in which he found himself. At 
length the silence was broken. 

“Mr. Wilson, let me ask you what is to hinder 
you from giving yourself up now and here to the 
service of Christ, so that you may go home and 
add your influence as a Christian to that of your 
friend ? That neighborhood needs more than one 
young Christian to light up the darkness. Is 
there anything to hinder?” 

He waited for a reply, and Dean said slowly — 

“Your question appears to imply that it would 
be a very easy thing to do ; but I should say that 
there might be a very great deal in the way.” 

“Come with me where we can be alone a few 
moments” — leading the way to a little room 
back of the platform. Then with his hand laid 
upon Dean’s shoulder, he said — “Now what is 
the first thing that comes to you as being in the 
way of your becoming a follower of Christ ? ” 

“I should say not wanting to do it would be 


238 HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 

the first hindrance,” said Dean, speaking with a 
little hesitation, as if he might not be quite cer- 
tain that this obstacle had not already faded away. 

“You do want to do this thing; you have been 
with us through this conference, and you have 
heard of the work which young Christians are 
doing, and you have longed to have this same 
work going on in your own neighborhood. You 
have thought to put the responsibility upon your 
friend, who is a Christian ; but do you not see 
that it is you to whom the message has come? 
And if you are not ready for work, then you muse 
get ready, and your first step is to consecrate 
yourself to the service of Christ.” 

“A person who has lived the sort of life that 
I have is not fit to engage in work for the Lord.” 

“You are going to leave the old life behind 
you. And besides, you have been planning to 
work for Him by proxy. You were going to 
carry home with you the information you had 
gathered here ; and after trying to impart to your 
friend the enthusiasm and inspiration of the meet- 
ing, you thought to set him to work! It won’t do 
for you to talk about not being ready to engage in 
any sort of Christian work ; you began to work 
when you put that question in the basket.” 

“But I know almost nothing about religion; 
you cannot imagine how ignorant I am of the 
Bible ! ” 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 239 

“Yes, but you are going to study it after this. 
And if you will decide to come to Christ you will 
know of religion experimentally. You now know 
that it is but to turn away from yourself and look 
to Him. He is ready now to pardon your past 
and give you grace for the future. The life of a 
Christian seems to you more desirable than ever 
before; why not enter upon it?” 

“ I do not feel prepared for the step ; I have 
not thought of it until within the last hour. I 
suppose I have expected to turn about and live 
differently sometime, but I have not thought seri- 
ously of taking such a stand as you suggest. It 
seems to me that some preparation is needed in 
my case.” 

“What preparation can you make? You can- 
not pardon your own sins ; you cannot even turn 
away from sin in your own strength ; you will 
never be any more ready than you are at this 
minute.” 

“ But I have never prayed ; I do not know 
how.” 

“Well, you are going to begin now, I trust. I 
tell you, my friend, Christ stands ready to supply 
all your need, to do all for you. Let us come to 
Him now and give ourselves up to His service, to 
be and to do as He shall direct. Will you ? ” 

A few moments they stood there in breathless 
silence ; from one heart earnest prayer was going 


240 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


up, while in the other a fierce conflict was going 
on. Very unexpectedly had this question come 
up for settlement. All through the sessions of 
the conference the conviction had been fastening 
itself upon him that he had been leading a very 
worthless sort of a life and that these young men 
and women knew how such worthlessness could 
be redeemed, and life be made worth living. The 
zeal and enthusiasm which they exhibited in re- 
gard to the Christian life astonished him, and con- , 
vinced him that there was a deeper meaning to it 
all than he had fathomed. He had about made 
up his mind to look into it, and some time he 
would perhaps try that way of living ; but he had 
not intended to settle the matter then and there. 
But he seemed held to the point ; he must decide 
one way or the other; he was not ready to say 
that he would have nothing to do with this thing, 
and he seemed to hear a sweet, tender voice call- 
ing upon him to yield at once. 

“ Christ calls. He waits!” was the softly 
spoken entreaty of his friend. “Will you not 
enter upon his service ? ” 

Dean raised his eyes from the floor, and look- 
ing straight into the face of the other, said, 
firmly — “I think there is nothing I want to do 
so much as that ! ” 

The young people went home from the confer- 
ence and told of the good time they had; they 


HEARD WHILE YET SPEAKING. 


241 


spoke of the earnestness and enthusiasm of the 
delegates, of the spiritual tone of the addresses, 
of the encouraging reports from local societies, 
and of the solemn appeals to more consecrated 
service. Many went home with higher resolves 
and more earnest purposes ; but only a few knew 
of the very best of the conference — a soul 
brought into the kingdom, a worker enlisted, 
another influence brought to bear for the regen- 
eration of West Hill ; another preacher of the 
gospel called. 


242 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


CHAPTER XXL 

DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


“ We have found him. . . . Come and see. ” 


H OW to tell the rest ! How to portray the 
emotions of a soul just born into the 
Kingdom ! Dear Christian friend, do you remem- 
ber how it was with you when first you opened 
your heart to receive the heavenly Guest ? Do 
you remember how your soul was all flooded with 
the sunlight of His love? Most of the precious 
things of the religion of Christ were all unknown 
and untried, even undreamed of. Of the sweet 
peace that abides even when we descend into the 
valleys, of the conflicts and the triumphs through 
Christ, of the joy of communion with our Lord, of 
the wonderful life of oneness with Him, of all that 
grows out of an entire consecration, Dean Wilson 
was utterly ignorant. He was not at all familiar 
with the language of Christians ; he had not 
known many Christians, and those he had known 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


243 


had been to him incomprehensible; he was just 
beginning to understand them vaguely ; every- 
thing was so strange that he could not at once 
take it all in ; but of one thing he was certain ; 
one thing he could comprehend even at this early 
period of his Christian life — he was certain that 
Christ had come into his heart and life, and that 
nothing could ever again be just the same. He 
had stepped out of the old life into a new. As 
he journeyed homeward even the familiar land- 
scape had taken on a different appearance. The 
sky was brighter than ever before ; the hills 
seemed to reach up to heaven, or was it that 
heaven was nearer? He had always thought it 
so far away, but now it had come down into his 
heart. The people in the car were more interest- 
ing to him than ever people were before. He 
studied their faces, and wondered how many of 
them knew of the love of Christ, and fancied that 
he could see the wondrous love beaming from the 
eyes and sounding forth in the voices of some of 
his traveling companions. He thought within 
himself — “It is only a few days since I passed 
over this road, yet I seem to have lived a lifetime. 
It is as if I had been walking wearily along, try- 
ing always to grasp something that I thought was 
the thing to have in this life, and never getting a 
hold upon it, and all at once coming to a place 
where I must choose whether I would keep on in 


244 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


the old way or enter upon a new way ; and no 
sooner was the choice made than everything was 
made all over new. Life spreads out before me 
more beautiful than I ever imagined it could 
seem, and a whole, long, unending forever to enjoy 
it in ! ” 

One of the first things this young man had 
thought to do, after that brief hour in the little 
room back of the platform of the church, was to 
buy a Bible. There were Bibles at home ; but he 
could not wait, and besides, he wanted one like 
those he saw in the hands of his new friends at 
the conference — one all his own, one marked 
with the date of that day which would now be to 
him the day of days. As he sat in the car, his 
mind and heart full to overflowing with the new 
thoughts and the strange emotions that surged 
through his being, he held this new treasure in 
his hand, now and then turning over its pages 
and reading a verse here and there. 

At one of the stations, half an hour’s ride from 
Clayborne, Rob Davis boarded the train. “You 
here ! ” he said, halting at the seat where Dean 
sat. “Where from and where to ?” 

“The one is plain enough, isn’t it?” asked 
Dean, removing his valise to make room for Rob. 
“The other may be more puzzling. I have 
been roaming up and down for a few days. I 
spent yesterday in the city.” 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


245 


Rob’s eyes rested upon the Bible, which Dean 
still held open at the passage he had been read- 
ing. “ Seems to me that is a new departure, isn’t 
it?” This with the little twinkle in his eyes 
which all Rob’s friends knew meant fun. 

Dean replied quietly — “Well, somewhat; yet I 
have occasionally looked into a Bible.” 

“Yes; but in a railway coach, like a minister or 
Sunday School teacher!” 

“Well, would there be anything out of the way 
in being like either?” 

“Not out of the way, but rather queer for you. 
That is a handsome copy. I suppose you have 
been buying a present for your mother?” 

“No; I bought it for myself.” 

“For yourself! Dean Wilson buying a Bible 
for himself! You don’t expect me to believe 
that ? ” 

“I certainly do expect you to believe just that. 
It is quite time for me to begin to study the 
Bible.” He hesitated just for a moment, trying 
to think how to tell it, not from any unwilling- 
ness to witness for Christ. Indeed, he did not at 
that moment think anything about witnessing. I 
doubt if he had ever heard of the words of his 
Lord — “Ye shall be my witnesses.” But having 
taken a new position it seemed to him quite the 
proper thing to avow it, and his hesitation for 
words was only momentary; then he went on — 


246 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


“ I have something to tell you, Rob ; I might 
as well say it now and here. Things are not just 
the same with me that they were the last time I 
saw you ; within twenty-four hours all my aims 
and purposes and my hopes and plans have 
changed. I meant to tell it at home first, but I 
think the Lord means me to tell you now that I 
have become a Christian. I heard something in 
the conference yesterday about one of the disci- 
ples, who, as soon as he was called, went out to 
bring his brother to Christ. I was looking for 
the story when you came in. Now you are not 
my brother, neither have I any brother to bring 
to Christ ; but we have always been friends and 
we have been in a good many frolics together, 
and now I want you to join me in this matter of 
serving the Lord. It is only a few hours since 
I began it ; but I tell you, Rob, I realize that I 
have lost a great deal by not beginning sooner. I 
am just full of joy, and running over with enthu- 
siasm ! I want to persuade all my friends to take 
the same step.” 

And there in that crowded car Dean Wilson 
preached Christ to his friend. 

“Well,” said Rob, with a little laugh, “you are 
quite an enthusiast! You put it pretty strong, 
but I guess I’ll wait and see how you make it go 
on a little longer run. Two of us turning straight 
about in one neighborhood would be a little 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


247 


too much for the community to take in at 
once.” 

“Rob,” said Dean, “you have always been bet- 
ter than I ; you have never been so far on the 
downhill road that people have noticed it and 
remarked — * He’s a hard boy,’ as they have in my 
case often and often; you have always been more 
ready to fall in with John’s schemes, and I believe 
you are more than half persuaded to go along 
with me now. There is something that I want 
you to think about. * In a few days* you will have 
an opportunity to stand out fairly upon one side or 
the other. There is a test coming, and I want 
you to be ready to take a stand upon the right 
side.” 

“What do you mean.'’” Rob wonderingly 
asked. 

“ No matter now ; you’ll find out in time what 
I mean. Just be making up your mind whether 
you will be counted in on the side of Christ or 
with His enemies.” 

“You are a queer fellow — always were! But 
you are queerer than ever to-day. Say, what are 
you up to, any way ? ” 

“You wait and see; but be ready. And see to 
it that you don’t enlist under the wrong banner 
when the time comes.” 

Through the valley and up the three-mile slope 
that led to West Hill, the old lumbering stage- 


248 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


coach wound its way. It was a snow landscape 
that they looked out upon, but very beautiful in 
the sunlight. It seemed as though millions upon 
millions of diamonds had been strewn upon the 
snow, and glittering pendants hung from roofs 
and the branches of the trees. Presently Dean 
said — 

“ I have always known that West Hill was 
beautiful in summer, but I never before realized 
how pretty a picture it makes at this time of the 
year.” 

“I don’t see anything but a cold, bleak place,” 
grumbled Rob. “ I think it is dreary enough ; to 
be sure, we have rather lively times nowadays, 
but it is a tiresome road up here. But when we 
get a railroad we shall be in the world. As it is 
now, we scarcely hang on at the edges.” 

Dean laughed at the grumble, as he asked — 
“ Do you think we will have a railroad ? ” 

“Why, it looks that way now. They were run- 
ning out a line last week — went right through 
the Gulf — cut a corner off the Heckman meadow 
flats.” 

“ Whew ! ” 

“Oh, father says it won’t hurt the farm very 
much ; and I was down there, and heard one of 
the men say that right there would be the place 
for a station. That would be a boom for the 
Heckmans.” 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 249 

“I hope the road will go through; it would be 
a great convenience.” 

“It is pretty sure to go,” said the stage driver. 
“The short cut from Lincoln to Clayborne is just 
what is needed to make the connection ; and if it 
goes, it has got to go through the Gulf. It is 
the only pass through the hills. The grade will 
be pretty heavy; but if they go anywhere else 
they will have to tunnel the hill. I reckon to 
give up staging before another year rolls around.” 

“Sleepy old West Hill will have to wake up,” 
said Rob, as the stage drew up to let him out at 
his own home. Turning back at the gate, he 
called out — 

“Say, Dean, when does that little play you 
spoke of in such vague terms come off?” 

“No reason why the Hill should be * sleepy’ 
with such wide-awake fellows around as that one,” 
remarked the stage driver as they drove on. 

But Dean was thinking, with a little sigh in his 
heart, that he had failed in his attempt to interest 
Rob in that which had now become to him of 
such vital importance. And Rob himself was 
thinking — “Of all the young people in this neigh- 
borhood to go and get religious, Dean Wilson is 
the very last one I should pick out ! I would a 
great deal sooner have expected it of Rob Davis ! 
Now I would! And I don’t know but it is a good 
idea.” 


250 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


Dean did not find it as easy to speak of his new 
purposes at home as it had been to speak to his 
boy friend. His father and mother did not open 
the way at all. They were full of questions in 
regard to the relatives whom he had been visiting, 
inquiries in regard to their health, their business 
prospects, their homes, their farms and stores, 
and even their politics ; but not an inquiry passed 
their lips as to the spiritual health of these rela- 
tives, not a word as to their prospects for eternity, 
as to their riches laid up in heaven, not a ques- 
tion as to whether they were about “the King’s 
business.” Had Dean’s father and mother been 
Christian people, there might have been some- 
thing in the talk which followed his home-coming 
which would naturally lead up to the one thing 
that he was particularly anxious to talk about, and 
yet I am not sure that such would have been the 
case. It is not always that Christians put these 
matters in the foreground. We talk about bank 
accounts, stocks and dividends, with not a word of 
the treasure laid up in a bank that never fails, 
where the dividends are sure. We talk about 
what our friends wear, with never a question as to 
whether they are wearing and keeping unspotted 
the robe of righteousness. 

Dean tried to tell them at home about the day 
he spent in the city, but some way the talk would 
run off on other subjects. Did he hear anything 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


251 


about the new railroad ? Did he see anything 
about the new buggy they intended to get in the 
spring? And his mother said — 

“ If I had known you were going to stop over a 
day, I would have had you select the new parlor 
carpet.” 

Buggies and carpets and railroads ! How far 
were all these from his thought that day in the 
city ! He answered all their questions, and gave 
them such delightful accounts of everything that 
the quiet home was quite brightened up by his re- 
turn, and his mother remarked to her husband — 
“ What a world of good this little trip has done 
the boy ! ” But she never suspected all the good 
that had come to him until, in a day or two, a let- 
ter came from his new friend, Mr. Mills, saying 
that he would visit West Hill the very next day. 
This gave Dean the opportunity for speaking of 
the new interests which had come into his life. 
His father said — “Well, Dean, there was a time, 
a long while back, when I was interested in these 
matters. May be it would have been better for 
us all if I had kept on going to church, but away 
off up here there hasn’t been much to encourage 
one in trying to live like a Christian.” 

“Well, father, I think we will go down to Clay- 
borne often after this, you and mother and I.” 

A slight illness of Mr. Wilson had thrown the 
work all upon Dean, so that he had not found an 


252 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


opportunity to talk with John in regard to the 
Society of Christian Endeavor. Indeed, he did 
not see him at all until that Saturday evening, 
when all the young people had gathered in the 
schoolhouse to listen to Mr. Mills. The notice 
which Dean had sent around to them was in the 
form of an invitation to meet his friend, and talk 
over a matter of interest to all. 

The story told by the stranger was substan- 
tially the same as that to which Dean had listened 
that day in the cars, and which has been repeated 
again and again — that story of the beginning of 
the Christian endeavor movement and of its mar- 
vellous growth. Having studied the locality, and 
understanding the character of the young people 
to whom he was talking, the speaker was able to 
interest them and to show how the constitution 
could be adapted to their needs, showing the elas- 
ticity of this document after a few vital principles 
of the organization had been adopted. It seemed 
to John Heckman that the fact of there being, so 
far as he knew, no other young Christian in 
the neighborhood, was an insuperable obstacle in 
the way of the organization of a society there. 
Indeed, the thought which was now presented 
was not altogether new to him. He had read of 
the organization, and had been interested in its 
methods, but had considered it not at all adapted 
to the needs of West Hill young people. But 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 253 

this stranger was putting it before them in a very 
delightful way, and making it appear to be the 
very thing which they needed. All objections 
melted away. Still, John could not see how they 
could have a society without active members 
enough to fill the offices. At length, the speaker 
asked how many would be willing to join as active 
members, and asked for a rising vote. They all 
looked to John Heckman to lead off as a matter 
of course, and some thought that perhaps Beth 
would rise. But Beth Heckman sat still, giving a 
little start of surprise as Dean Wilson arose and 
stood beside John. But another surprise awaited 
them. Rob Davis arose and said — “I do not 
know as I understand it, but I think you said — 
‘any young person who is willing to be known as 
a Christian.’ If that is it, I want to be counted 
in. I am not sure that I am a Christian, but I 
am willing to be known as one just as soon as I 
have the right to the name.” 

“We will count you in, my friend, gladly,” said 
the leader. “Is there another who wants to be 
counted in ? ” 

Yes, there was another, and still another — 
Jennie Munson and Lizzie Davis. And yet an- 
other. Jimmie Howland had been sitting beside 
John, who now, as the boy stood upon his feet, 
threw his arms about him in loving welcome to 
the fellowship of Christians. 


254 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 


“Another ? ” 

Still Beth sat still, and apparently unmoved. 
When associate members were called out, there 
were a dozen or more ready to put down there 
names, but Beth would not join as an associate 
member. No, indeed. She heard some one be- 
hind her whisper — “You might know that if Beth 
couldn’t be an active member she wouldn’t be 
anything,” and this was followed by a subdued 
laugh which did not escape Beth. Altogether, 
she felt a little cross, a very unusual state of mind 
for Beth Heckman. This movement was not to 
her liking, and she would have nothing to do with 
it*. The only remark she offered in regard to the 
matter was made to John when they reached 
home. She said — “I think it was mean to go and 
start something to which only a few can belong. 
Seems to me Dean Wilson is taking a great deal 
upon himself.” And she went off to her room, 
giving John no opportunity to reply. 1 

It seemed a pity that this bitterness of Beth’s 
opposition should come into John’s rejoicing over 
the development of the evening. It was a sur- 
prise and a joy to him to find that, instead of his 
standing alone, all these young friends were ready 
to join hands with him in work for Christ. He 
said, with a happy little laugh, as he shook hands 
with Dean after the meeting — 

“Well, I have been mourning because I 


DEAN BEGINS HIS WORK. 255 

was alone, but it seems that we are quite a 
company.” 

“ You have been a society of Christian Endeavor 
all by yourself,” said Dean. 

“The difference is,” replied John, “that now 
we will write those two words with capitals.” 


256 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


“Through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ.” 


B ETH, haven’t you come to a Jordan?” 

John asked the question one day when, in 
response to his entreaty, Beth very emphatically 
declared that she would have nothing whatever to 
do with the Christian Endeavor Society. 

The new organization was flourishing; though 
its membership was still small, its principles and 
object had taken hold upon the hearts of a few of 
the young people ; and, notwithstanding Beth’s 
expressed opinion that it was altogether unneces- 
sary and uncalled for, the members already felt 
that it was just what they needed. Much to 
Beth’s surprise, Tom Munson joined as an associ- 
ate member. She had counted on him as one 
who would be certain to keep her company as an 
outsider. But Tom said — 

“The girls want to attend the meetings, and 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


257 


they cannot unless I drive up with them ; I might 
as well, for Sunday evenings are rather dull at our 
house, any way. And you know anybody can be 
an associate member.” 

•‘I can’t!” persisted Beth. “I can never do 
half-hearted things.” 

“Then why don’t you come right out and join 
as an active member? I do not see but you are 
as good as any of them.” 

“Whatever else I may be, I am no hypocrite!” 

Dean Wilson was the president of the society, 
and surprised them all by the ability which he dis- 
played as a presiding officer, as well as by the 
rapid progress which he had made in the Chris- 
tian life. 

“I tell you, Beth, he talks like a minister,” said 
Tom, as he stopped at the Heckmans’ one even- 
ing, when the lookout committee, of which Jennie 
Munson was a member, held a meeting there. 
“I shouldn’t wonder if he made one yet.” This 
he added with a careless laugh ; but Beth sud- 
denly remembered that she had heard John and 
Dean several times lately discussing Greek and 
Latin text books, and that Dean had carried off 
John’s Latin grammar only the evening before; 
and she wondered if Tom’s careless words might 
not have in them a bit of a prophecy. 

“Dean and John are becoming great friends,” 
continued Tom. “I am glad, for my part, that 


258 THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 

John has somebody at last who thinks as he does 
about these matters ; it does me good to see them 
together. They are not a bit alike. You would 
notice it at once if you came to the Christian 
Endeavor meetings. John talks like a lawyer — 
argues everything out. He is as set as a stump ; 
when he once makes up his mind that a thing is 
right, he’s there ! And then he sets to work to 
reason the rest of us into the same way of think- 
ing. One thing I have noticed; he has a ‘thus 
saith the Lord ’ for everything. I don’t believe 
that brother of yours ever makes a move unless 
he is sure it is along a line laid down in the Bible. 
And with it all he is genial and full of life. He 
is a kind of a revelation to me. Now my father 
lives by the Book, too, but John finds some things 
in his that father has never found in the one he 
uses. I wish that lookout committee would invite 
father to join the society. He would grow young 
again, may be, and find that verse about children 
playing in the streets of the city. I believe my 
father to be one of the most conscientious Chris- 
tians in the world, but he is a little too sombre 
to recommend the all-important subject to other 
people.” 

Tom did not seem to notice that he was having 
the talk all to himself. As for Beth, she was hav- 
ing a little fight within herself ; she had so long 
been John’s friend and confidante that it gave her 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


259 


a sharp pang to hear Tom speak of her brother’s 
growing intimacy with Dean Wilson. Some way 
she felt shut out. This Christian Endeavor Soci- 
ety had come in between her and John, and she 
was jealous of it. She told herself that she had 
known all along that John would naturally come 
to have other interests — interests in which she 
could not share; she could not expect always to 
take up every scheme in which he became absorbed. 
It had come a little sooner than she expected ; 
that was all. It might as well be the Christian 
Endeavor idea as anything ; had he taken up 
the study of a profession, she would not have 
expected to join him in it; and she was a simple- 
ton to allow herself to be disturbed about the mat' 
ter. What if he and Dean were growing to be 
such good friends ? She and Lizzie were great 
friends, and John had never shown any signs of 
jealousy; they still had their own plans and hopes 
and their little private fancy about the exodus, 
into which no one else could enter ; she was, or 
ought to be, satisfied. Besides, she had always 
liked Dean, and she was really glad that he was 
growing to be John’s friend; and having arrived 
at this conclusion, she thought she was quite wil- 
ling to have things as they were. But she was 
not ; that society still loomed up before her as 
something which she could not be interested in, 
but which stood right in her way. What was the 


26 o 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


matter with Beth ? She had read over the consti- 
tution of the new society very carefully ; and had 
two or three sentences been cut out, she would 
willingly have subscribed to it. The conditions 
of membership were too hard for her, but she 
could engage in nearly all the work of the com- 
mittees. She could even be willing to take part 
in the meetings. She did not see that reciting a 
Bible verse in the prayer-meeting meant any more 
than reciting one in Sunday School ; anybody 
could do that. But the consecration-meeting, 
where “ each member is expected to speak con- 
cerning his progress in the Christian life” — that 
effectually shut her off, so she told herself. She 
had been trying to establish herself in her posi- 
tion ever since. She assured herself that she had 
no Christian life to advance. She laughed a little 
bitterly as she said to herself — “John asked me 
the other day if I had not come to a Jordan. 
Why, I haven’t even started out of Egypt, or 
even gone so far as to make up my mind to try 
to get away ! More than that, I haven’t found 
out that there is a hard task-master to get away 
from. I cannot understand what they say about 
the story of the Israelites and their wanderings, 
with their Jordan and their Canaan, being typical 
of the Christian’s life. Looking at it another 
way, I could tell a great deal about it ; indeed, I 
suspect that I know the story better than a good 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


26l 


many Christians, and I presume they would be 
astonished if I were to tell them of the progress 
we are making in this new-fashioned exodus here 
in our home and in the neighborhood. This mod- 
ern pilgrimage interests me, but the other is 
beyond me. Queer, I suppose, to be more inter- 
ested in the type than in the real thing, if there 
be any real thing to it. I am sure I do not see 
how I could be any different ; I study the Bible 
quite a good deal, and I say my prayers, and do 
the disagreeable things just as they come to me, 
without a grumble ; and I don’t see that any of 
them do any more. Only there is something 
about John, for instance; and I do not know what 
it is, but it does make him different. And Liz- 
zie, too, she is different ; and yet, except for her 
interest and work connected with that society, she 
does just the same things she always did. If 
they had started a society that anybody could 
join, I would have taken hold of it, and attended 
the prayer-meetings and helped along in every 
way possible; but this thing is altogether too 
exclusive.” 

But Tom was saying — 

“ Dean is positively transformed. I never saw 
anything like it. It has been going on now for 
a good while. He used to be such a harum- 
scarum fellow — up to all sorts of doings ; and sud- 
denly he whisked about, and first he went into 


262 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


that temperance work, then he threw himself into 
the C. L. S. C. with all his might, and now he 
puts his whole soul into the Christian Endeavor 
Society. Last Sunday evening he repeated the 
verse — ‘God so loved the world that he gave his 
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ 
Then you should have heard him talk! He does 
not argue like John, but he has such a pleading 
manner that one feels as if he were held. He 
didn’t pretend to be original in his remarks, but 
said that he heard a sermon in the morning upon 
that text ; and he told us what he remembered of 
the sermon — a kind of second-hand preaching, 
you see,” and Tom and Beth both laughed at this 
idea. “I heard the same sermon,” continued 
Tom; “but I did not get hold of any thoughts 
that I considered worth remembering. I thought 
it was as dry as chips, though when Dean told it 
off it was so interesting that a thought or two 
actually found lodgment in my dull brain. He 
said that God gave His Son as a sacrifice for the 
world, and that this was foretold in the prophe- 
’ cies, and in the promise made to Adam and Eve 
away back there just after the fall, and that the 
Old Testament sacrifices were typical of Christ’s 
great sacrifice, and that those Old Testament peo- 
ple were saved through the sacrifice of the Son of 
God offered once for all. That the idea of an 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 263 

atonement for sin, and pardon through the shed- 
ding of blood, was set forth in the sacrifices they 
offered, and though their faith was imperfect, yet 
it was accepted of God. I declare, Beth, the Old 
and New Testaments never fitted together in my 
mind as they did while I listened to Dean’s sec- 
ond-hand sermon. He almost made me believe 
that there is something in it, after all.” 

Perhaps that lookout committee, with John as 
chairman, then in session in the Heckman parlor, 
in all their wise and careful planning laid out no 
better work than that which was done all uncon- 
sciously by Tom Munson as he rehearsed Dean’s 
prayer-meeting talk. That sermon preached in 
the dingy, shabby Clayborne church by a faithful 
but discouraged pastor, that sermon which the 
majority of the hearers pronounced “dull and 
dry,” in its re-echo had reached the ear of Beth 
Heckman as a most startling truth. 

The talk drifted away into other channels ; they 
discussed the prospects of the new railroad, or 
rather they talked of their own prospects in view 
of the fact that the railroad was already consid- 
ered a certainty. 

“It will be quite a boom for West Hill,” said 
Tom; “especially if they have a station here, as 
they probably will. There is considerable prop- 
erty penned up here, which will be likely to see 
daylight pretty soon. Two men were up negoti- 


264 THE re-echo of a sermon. 

ating with Mr. Scott for that bluff at the lower 
end of his farm. They want to use the stone for 
ballast.” 

“ Perhaps our oak-trees will find a market,” 
said Beth, and then the talk branched off upon 
the temperance question and the discouragements 
of the League, and finally ran into a good-natured 
dispute as to the best methods of conducting the 
C. L. S. C. meetings, until the meeting of the 
committee broke up and they joined the others 
for a visit all together. But through all the quiet 
talk with Tom, and through all the lively chatter 
with the others, the thought of the sacrifices of 
the Old Testament times as typical of the great 
sacrifice, ran in Beth’s mind. In her study of that 
wonderful history she had skipped the typical law 
and the sacrifices. She had not found anything 
in their every-day experience that to her mind 
corresponded with these ceremonials, and now for 
the first time they assumed importance. I sup- 
pose that, had she been asked the question, she 
would have answered that these things were all 
types of the gospel dispensation, but up to this 
time it was an unmeaning fact. It all came upon 
her with force, that the offering of sacrifice was a 
type of Christ’s sacrifice till He should come and 
offer Himself, and that it was the principal and 
most wonderful of all the Old Testament types, 
and that men were saved only through the shed- 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 265 

ding of blood. She wondered how she could have 
been so intent upon finding parallels in their own 
intellectual and moral life, and have been so blind 
as to the deeper meaning that touched the spirit- 
ual life! Of course, John had seen it all along; 
and she remembered now, how he had sometimes 
tried to make her see it, but she had not under- 
stood. Suddenly, a sense of the need of a personal 
interest in the sacrificial blood of Christ came upon 
her. She was glad when their friends departed, 
and she was at liberty to go away by herself and 
try to think it out. And then, when she had 
spent several wakeful hours, her thoughts in a 
whirl, she wished it were morning so that she 
might busy herself with her work and get away 
from her thoughts. She told herself that she was 
sick and tired of Elizabeth Heckman, with her 
moods and her tempers, her plans and her dreams, 
her hopes and her ambitions. She wished she 
had never heard of those old Israelites, and that 
she and John had never planned an “exodus.” 
The farther they went, the longer the road 
stretched out. There was more to it than she 
had supposed. Every new height gained only 
showed more land to be possessed, and now this 
serious side had come in to spoil all the enjoy- 
ment they had been getting out of their queer 
fancy ! And now she told herself — “ One thing is 
certain; I cannot play any longer with the inci- 


266 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


dents of this history that seem to symbolize our 
external life, unless I can take in the real mean- 
ing that touches the soul life ! I see it all, but I 
cannot feel it. It seems a wonderful plan all the 
way through, and wonderfully wrought out in the 
sacrifice of the great High Priest. I suppose I 
have heard that expression — * Christ our High 
Priest,’ hundreds of times ; but it has never until 
now been shown to me that the priests offering 
sacrifices for the people were a type of Christ 
offering Himself for the sins of the world. I see 
now how things are linked together ; the chain 
reaches down all the way from Adam to us. I 
see the wonder and the beauty of it all, but only 
as an outsider — I wonder if I want to become a 
part of it ! The same old question that was 
asked long ago — ‘Who is on the Lord’s side?’ 
is asked over again here on West Hill just now, 
in the invitation to join the Christian Endeavor 
Society. Perhaps the time has come for me to 
decide the question.” 

Turning back to the study of the exodus with a 
new-born purpose in her heart, Beth saw new and 
wonderful truths which had been hitherto hidden 
from her. The Spirit was showing her “won- 
drous things out of the law.” And more and 
more she was coming to understand the need of 
an offering for sin ; and if for the sins of a people, 
then for the individual, for her — for Beth Heck- 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 267 

man ! She saw how the covenant between God 
and His people Israel was ratified with blood, and 
how in the New Covenant as in the Old the sacri- 
ficial Lamb was slain ; only in the New, God had 
provided the offering which the soul by faith 
might lay upon the altar. That which had been 
to her simply a fascinating story now stood forth 
as a series of vital truths, as a part of God’s plan 
of salvation. Losing none of its interest as a 
type of their every-day practical life, the history 
became more absorbing as symbolizing the Chris- 
tian’s progress in spiritual life. 

“ There are two sets of truths here!” John 
looked up from his book to find that Beth had 
closed the Bible, and that her face had taken on 
the look it always wore when she' was, as she 
expressed it, “ trying to get inside of things.” 
She continued — “One lies underneath the other, 
and I have never before seen it, or realized even 
that it is there ! Though I have studied the one 
on the surface, and turned the truths all over and 
over, and fitted them to every possible emerg- 
ency, I have never discovered that they were 
meant to be transparent and to show the other 
set!” 

“ I suppose the trouble has been with your 
spectacles?” said John, with a tone of inquiry. 

“Yes; I suspect that I have been looking 
through the wrong ones. What I see now is 


268 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


wonderful; but, John, I would not have missed 
what I saw with the other pair.” 

“ Suppose you were to try looking through both 
pairs? You would find the truths all interwoven, 
and the fibres of the spiritual life running into the 
web of the every-day practical living, the threads 
of which in turn lose themselves in the other, 
making altogether a fabric of wonderful texture.” 

“I see! You mean that religion and business 
ought to go together ? ” 

“Yes; you can put it that way. I mean that 
Christ’s prayer for all who should believe on Him, 
may be, and should be, answered in the life of 
every one of His followers. He asked that they 
might be kept in the world, and that they might 
neither be of the world, nor yet be taken out of 
it. The spirit of obedience, which is the mind of 
Christ, ought to so enter into every act of the 
Christian that even what seemed the most trivial 
things will be done as unto the Lord.” 

“That makes a serious thing of living,” said 
Beth, very gravely. 

“But if you refuse to look into deeper things, 
they are there just the same; and does the shut- 
ting your eyes to them make the matter any less 
serious ? If by ‘ serious ’ you mean gloomy, you 
are mistaken, and should take it as just the oppo- 
site. You will find that your double set of truths 
fit into each other beautifully.” 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 269 

Beth did not seem inclined to talk any more, 
and John turned back to his book. Presently, 
she went up to her own room, and did not appear 
down-stairs again until an hour or two later, just 
as John was starting out. Then she came down 
with her out-of-door wraps on, and said — “I 
think I’ll go to the meeting with you.” 

She was always doing unexpected things, but 
perhaps she never surprised her brother more 
than by this proposition. She had been urged by 
both himself and others to at least attend the 
meetings of the new society, and had so pointedly 
refused, and had seemed so entirely uninterested 
in the movement, that, knowing how persistent 
she could be, they had quite despaired of winning 
her over. Not quite; they were praying and hop- 
ing that some time she might be brought to think 
differently. 

The meeting progressed after the manner of 
a wide-awake Christian Endeavor meeting, and 
presently Beth spoke with her usual bright man- 
ner, but with something in her tone that was 
different from the tones of the old Beth. She 
said — “I want to tell you something. An echo 
from this meeting fell upon my ear two or three 
weeks ago ; and the thought expressed has echoed 
and re-echoed, growing louder instead of fainter 
after the manner of echoes, until I had to take 
the message as to me from the Lord. And now 


2 70 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 


to-night I avow myself a disciple of the Lord 
Jesus Christ — a Christian Endeavorer. I have 
no story of Christian experience to relate ; I do 
not know how it is, but within a few days, yes, 
even within a few hours, I have come to see the 
things of this life and of eternity in a very differ- 
ent light. The blood of Christ has changed 
everything for me. And now my watchword is, 
‘All that the Lord hath said will I do.’” 

If her attendance had surprised John and the 
others, her remarks surprised them still more. 
You know how it was in the early days of the 
New Testament — “where many were gathered 
together, praying. And as Peter knocked, . . . 

when they . . . saw him, they were aston- 
ished. But he . declared unto them how 

the Lord had brought him out.” It was the old 
story of unexpected answer to prayer. I some- 
times wonder that the Lord does not take us at 
our estimate of His power and readiness to 
answer our prayers. If to us He were to say — 
“According to your faith be it done,” would we 
not miss many blessings ? 

How the meeting went on after that, Beth 
never knew. She had taken her seat well back, 
and she could not help overhearing the irrepressi- 
ble whisperer upon the back seat, who mistakenly 
thought that her tones were covered by the 
singing which followed — “Well, Beth Heckman 


THE RE-ECHO OF A SERMON. 2/1 

found that the thing was bound to go even with- 
out her ; so she gave in as gracefully as she knew 
how ! ” 

“Hush!” whispered the more proper of the 
two. 

“She wouldn’t join as an associate member 
because they can’t hold an office. Trust her for 
getting inside of a popular thing ! ” persisted the 
other. 

The singing ended, and the whisperers returned 
to propriety ; but Beth was saying within herself — 
“And so this is the way they look at it! If they 
only knew how ready and willing I am to serve 
anywhere ! ” Then she . began her work as a 
Christian endeavorer with the resolve in her heart 
that she would, if only her Master would let 
her, win those girls for His kingdom. She had 
already been wondering what work she could find 
to do different from the things she had been 
doing; and here it was set right before her — 
souls to be won for Christ ! 


272 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 

“ He lieth in wait secretly as a lion in his den.” 

REAT changes were taking place at West 



V_T Hill. The railroad was rapidly pushing its 
way through the hills, and by midsummer the 
smoke of a locomotive was seen rising from the 
ravine which cut through the lower end of the 
Heckman farm. As had been predicted, the 
route selected crossed the meadow flats, and the 
company paid Mrs. Heckman a generous sum for 
the “ right of way.” It was definitely settled that 
there was to be a freight and passenger station 
at that point, and already several buildings were 
in process of erection. Altogether, West Hill 
seemed likely to come into prominence in other 
respects than as “an elevated portion of land.” 
The new road was a benefit to the people in more 
than one way. Some of the farmers had beds of 
gravel for sale, others had stone for the crusher. 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 273 

and others, like Mrs. Heckman, had timber to dis- 
pose of, so that the railroad company scattered 
a great deal of money amongst these not over- 
wealthy people. It was a very busy summer. 
As Rob had predicted, sleepy old West Hill had 
waked up. It had been waking up ever since 
Beth Heckman gave her first tea-party, though 
unthinking people fancied that it was the screech 
of that first locomotive whistle that aroused it 
from the slumber of years. If along with the rest 
the evil influences need not have been aroused to 
greater activity, the awakening might perhaps 
have been considered an unmixed blessing. But 
Satan, on the alert as usual, seeing the aggressive 
nature of the work of the young people, set him- 
self to work to thwart their plans, if possible. 

In one instance, at least, the plans of this 
enemy seemed to have succeeded. So quietly 
had these plans been arranged that no one sus- 
pected the scheme to rob the young Christians of 
their privileges and to block their work. The 
annual district election came off at the regular 
time. For several years the same man had been 
re-elected trustee, and, as he had proved efficient, 
no thought of change entered the minds of the 
majority of the voters. As the election occurred 
at a very busy season, many, thinking that noth- 
ing of any special interest was to come up, 
remained at home. What was their surprise and 


274 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 


consternation to learn afterwards that Colonel 
Parsons had been elected trustee by a trifling 
majority? But for the fact that he would not be 
likely to engage John Heckman to teach the 
school for the coming year, there would have been 
very slight opposition to the colonel. Many were 
sorry on this account, but no further complica- 
tions were anticipated. 

But it soon became evident that the colonel had 
been elected for a purpose. When the young 
people gathered on Sunday evening for the Chris- 
tian Endeavor meeting, they found the door of 
the schoolhouse locked, and a notice was posted, 
which read thus: 

Take Notice. — To whom it may concern: For the future 
this building will not be opened except for school uses. 

(Signed) Col. Parsons. 

Great was the indignation. 

“He has no right,” said one. “The law allows 
the schoolhouse to be used for all religious 
meetings.” 

“At the option of the trustee,” said John. 

“Are you sure ? ” 

“Quite so; and Colonel Parsons would not dare 
to make this move unless he were sure of his 
ground.” 

“ But how mean ! ” 

“What shall we do?” 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 275 

“ Let’s go and hold our meeting under the trees 
opposite the colonel’s house,” suggested Lizzie 
Davis. 

“Or in front of Howland’s,” was Robert’s 
amendment. 

“It looks as if they wanted to drive us into 
adopting Crusade methods,” remarked Beth. 

Meantime John and Dean were in consultation, 
the result of which Dean announced. 

“Perhaps the best thing we can do to-night is 
to hold a short out-of-doors service right here, and 
then adjourn to meet at Mrs. Heckman’s Tuesday 
evening to talk matters over. Meantime I will 
undertake to interview Colonel Parsons and see if 
anything can be arranged.” 

So there under the stars they stood in a little 
group and sung a hymn of praise. Then the 
leader said — “As we cannot read the Scripture 
lesson in the dark, we will prove that it is profit- 
able to have passages stored away in our memory. 
We will each repeat a verse or two. It is a good 
time to dwell upon the promises. ‘He that dwell- 
eth in the secret place of the Most High shall 
abide under the shadow of the Almighty.’ ” 

There followed in quick succession words of 
promise and encouragement which God has given 
to His people from time to time, and which, dur- 
ing the last few months, had been impressed upon 
the hearts and stored in the minds of those who 


2^6 SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 

made up this worshiping company. Many of 
the selections now repeated were full of comfort 
and cheer. When Beth’s turn came, she recited 
in a clear voice — “The God of heaven, he will 
prosper us ; therefore we his servants will arise 
and build.” 

Afterward, two or three brief yet earnest 
prayers were offered, those who prayed being 
mindful of their present distress and the pressing 
need of the hour — help and direction. Then 
there was more singing, after which they went 
home. 

As their voices in the hymns filled the air, and 
floated away on the soft summer breeze, Mr. 
Howland started up, exclaiming — “I thought Par- 
sons was going to put a stop to that nonsense.” 

“What nonsense?” asked Jack Swan, who, as 
usual, was lounging away the evening at the 
saloon. 

“Why, that habit a lot of them have got into 
of using the schoolhouse for all sorts of meetings ; 
that is, they go there for a frolic and then to 
make it appear aU right they call it the meeting of 
some society. It did very well until they got to 
going Sunday nights. That is a little too much 
for a Christian neighborhood.” 

“Seems to me,” responded Jack, laughing, 
“that you are getting very jealous of the reputa- 
tion of the neighborhood. Now, I don’t know 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 


2 77 


much about Christianity myself, but I should 
judge that a few other things needed reforming 
before we could lay claim to being a Christian 
neighborhood.” 

“ Oh, take us as a whole, we are not the worst 
people in the world, and you know I always keep 
everything very quiet here on Sunday.” 

“But that meeting at the schoolhouse is a 
religious meeting,” insisted Jack. 

“Nonsense! Tom Munson and Dean Wilson 
running a religious meeting ! They say Dean is 
at the head of it, too. Much religion there must 
be about it! And they have drawn my Jimmie 
into it. I can’t have him following the lead of 
that set.” 

“But you know Dean has changed, turned over 
a new leaf, they say.” 

“Well, any way, the colonel isn’t going to 
have any more meetings in the schoolhouse. He 
promised that when we put him in. We don’t 
need much religion up here; it isn’t good for 
business.” 

“Trade falling off, eh?” 

“Well, not to hurt me yet, though they have 
got away two or three of my best customers. 
But I don’t mean they shall get much the start. 
They are after Clarence Howard. Now, Jack, 
you don’t want to let them spoil him. He is a 
pretty good fellow if we can only keep him with 


278 SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 

us. I hope you’ll try to manage him ; you can do 
it better than any one else.” 

“All right ; I’ll look after him.” 

Thus these two plotted against the peace of a 
home, plotted for the ruin of a son and brother. 
Would they succeed in ruining, body and soul, 
this brother that the sister and her friends were 
trying to save? It seems scarcely possible that 
he can escape, and he is only one of thousands 
upon thousands. 

While they were talking, the father heard Jim- 
mie’s step upon the walk, and called to him — 
“Where have you been ? ” 

“Up to the prayer-meeting.” 

“ Seems to me you had rather a short session. 
Getting tired of it ? ” 

“No, sir! But somebody, Colonel Parsons, I 
suppose, had been mean enough to lock us out of 
the school house, and he says we can’t meet there 
any more.” 

“Indeed!” 

“Yes, sir; that is just what he has done, and I 
think it is a mean trick.” 

“Well, I suppose, then, your meetings are done 
with ? ” 

Mr. Howland could not altogether keep his 
triumph out of his tone, but the boy was too 
excited to notice it. He replied quickly — 

“No, sir! We shall hold the meetings just the 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 2 *] 9 

same, if we have to go marching up and down the 
streets singing and praying as we go.” 

“No danger of their doing that; they are not 
all as zealous as you are, I venture to say.” 

“I can tell you, sir, Colonel Parsons has taken a 
biggej job on his hands than he thought for. We 
are not the sort to be put down easily,” said the 
boy, respectfully but firmly. 

“Now see here, my boy. You may as well 
give up this nonsense at once. You have been 
indulged in your notions too long. It doesn’t 
look well to have a boy fighting against his father 
and his father’s friends. When you were a little 
fellow, it was sort of sharp and funny; but you 
are old enough now to begin to think about the 
interests of business.” 

“I’ll never have anything to do with this busi- 
ness ! ” said the boy, stoutly. 

“There! You have said enough for this time,” 
returned his father, still good-naturedly. “I am 
going to the Brewers’ Convention, Thursday, and 
I shall leave you to run the store while I am 
away ; so you’d better not talk stuff that you can’t 
live up to.” 

“I shall live up to what I say. I’ll run the 
store, but I am not going to sell liquor.” 

“ Indeed ! I think we will see about that. Go 
to bed now, and sleep off some of your non- 
sense.” As the boy left the room, the father 


28 o 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 


added — “You see, Jack, how they are spoiling 
the boy. If shutting them out of the schoolhouse 
doesn’t break them up, we will try some other 
means. I am not going to submit to having my 
business and my boy interfered with.” 

“Are you really going to leave Jimmie in 
charge for the two days you expect to be away?” 

“Yes; he is quite capable, and he will attend 
to the business for all his talk.” 

The next morning Dean called upon Colonel 
Parsons to ask the cause of the sudden with- 
drawal of the privilege of meeting in the school- 
house. The colonel replied, in effect, that the 
building was not intended for any such uses. 
If the privilege were accorded to one society, it 
must be to others, and the door opened for things 
which it might not be proper to bring into the 
school building. 

“ Has any such contingency arisen ? ” asked 
Dean. 

There had not, but the colonel wished to avoid 
the possibility of any such embarrassment. 

“But,” urged Dean, “the trustee has the right 
to decide what is proper and what is not. It 
seems hardly fair to put us out when three fourths 
of the families of the district are represented in 
these organizations.” 

Yes, the colonel understood all that; they were 
represented by children, and in some cases the 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 


281 


parents were opposed to having their children 
drawn into these societies; there were too many 
organizations — no sense at all in so many. The 
district school afforded all the means of education 
which the boys and girls of West Hill needed; 
and if any of them were anxious for more religion, 
he supposed they could get it by going down to 
Clayborne to church. Any way, they had no call 
for a prayer-meeting, and besides, he had heard 
that they intended to start a Sunday School soon. 

“Yes,” replied Dean; “we expected to open 
next Sunday.” 

So the colonel had heard, and he determined 
to head it off. It was altogether uncalled for. 
Young people shouldn’t be setting themselves up 
to teach their elders. Parents know what they 
wished to have their children taught, and if they 
did not see fit to teach them the Bible, it was no 
business of boys and girls to undertake the work. 
It was all of a piece with John Heckman’s ideas; 
that fellow had brought more nonsense into the 
neighborhood than they had ever had there be- 
fore; West Hill had managed to get along with- 
out such goings on for years, and there was no 
reason why such things should be permitted now. 

“At least, you will open the building for us for 
a few weeks until we can find some other place. 
It is not fair to shut us out without warning.” 

But fair or not, the building was closed, and it 


282 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 


was going to stay closed. There wasn’t a place 
in the neighborhood that they could get, and it 
would not do any good to waste time over the 
matter. The colonel wouldn’t so much object to 
the reading-circle, though too much learning and 
too much religion had a good deal the same effect 
upon a community. So there was no use in talk- 
ing; the schoolhouse would not be opened. 

“But suppose the majority of the voters of the 
district desire it ? ” asked Dean. 

It would make no difference how many nor 
who desired it ; Colonel Parsons was in power, and 
he would act for himself. They could put him 
out, he supposed ; but they could not dictate to 
him. 

Dean stopped a moment at the Heckmans’ to 
tell John and Beth the result of the conference, 
and then went home, much perplexed over the 
state of affairs. 

About the middle of the afternoon, John came 
to the pump for a drink. Looking up, he saw 
Beth sitting at the window of her room with her 
Bible open on the sill. He called out — 

“Say, Beth, what did you mean by that verse 
you recited last night?” 

She turned over the leaves of the book quickly, 
and replied — 

“ See here, Moses ! Do you remember this — 
‘And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak 


SATAN PLANS AN OVERTHROW. 283 

unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an 
offering; of every man that giveth it willingly 
with his heart ye shall take my offering. . 

And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may 
dwell among them.’” 

“But, Beth, do you think it could be done?” 

“That is not the question, is it? Should you 
not say — ‘ Ought it to be done ? ’ ” 

“You think it ought?” 

“I do not see anything else to do. We cannot 
give up religious service up here on the Hill, and 
we must have a place of meeting.” Then, as 
John turned to go back to his work, she called 
after him — “Think it over, John. Perhaps this 
is another Jordan.” 

“Beth is wild!” he told himself. “And yet, if 
the command should be ‘Go forward,’ I suppose 
the way would open.” 


284 


A boy’s idea of business. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A boy’s idea of business. 


“Not slothful in business . . . serving the Lord.” 


J ACK will come in and help you in the store 
while I am away,” said Mr. Howland, address- 
ing his son. 

“I don’t want Jack — I can do it alone. I 
don’t like Jack Swan one bit, and I won’t have 
him around,” replied the boy stoutly, adding — 
“Besides, if he helps, he will have to be paid; 
and I want the money myself.” 

Mr. Howland laughed, then said, meditatively — 
“I suppose you could do it; that is, if you had 
any head for business.” 

“ Of course I can do it ! I expect to do a big 
business. I’ll get out some posters and let the 
boys know I am running the establishment, and 
they will come in to buy lots of candy and such 
things. You must send to Clayborne for a 
supply.” 


A boy's idea of business. 285 

“All right! Send in for what you want, and 
you can have all you can make. See here, boy. 
I’ll make a bargain with you; you shall run the 
business and have all the profits while I am away. 
How’ll you like that ?” 

“Good! You mean that you’ll lease me the 
store and set me up in business regularly ? ” 

“Yes. I’ll write out an agreement, and we 
will both sign it and have it all in good shape.” 

“I guess I can trust my father’s word,” said 
the boy, proudly. 

“Oh, of course you can; but I want you to 
learn to do business, and this is a good way to 
begin. Do you know what a contract is ? ” 

“Well, I should say I did.” 

“ And could you draw one up yourself ? ” 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Heckman told us about such 
things in our * Practical Matters ’ class. I know a 
lot about law and business ! ” 

“Humph ! If you make the kind of a business 
man he is, I shall be sorry; but try your hand, 
and let’s see how much you do know.” 

Accordingly, the boy, falling in with the 
scheme the more willingly because he saw a way 
to carry out a plan of his own, drew up a contract, 
partly in legal form, and partly agreeable to his 
boyish notions. It was a curious document ; but 
it bound his father “as party of the first part” to 
deliver over to his son Jimmie “as party of the 


286 


A boy’s idea oe business. 


second part ” the goods in the store, with full lib- 
erty to conduct the business upon his own respon- 
sibility and in his own way ; and it bound the 
boy to attend to business, and to render a strict 
account of the sales, and to pay over to his father 
a sum equal to the wholesale price of the goods 
sold. It laid so few restrictions upon the new 
proprietor that Mr. Howland remarked upon the 
fact, and suggested that it gave great latitude. 

“ Of course ! But you see a fellow can’t do 
anything to advantage when he is all tied up with 
restrictions.” 

His father was much amused and well pleased 
with what appeared to be an unexpected develop- 
ment of a business taste, and with the boy’s abil- 
ity to draw up such a paper; and when Jimmie 
suggested that so important a document should 
have witnesses, Jack Swan was called in, and 
in much glee the agreement was signed and 
witnessed. 

Fifteen minutes after Mr. Howland had disap- 
peared around the curve of the hill road, post- 
ers in large letters were nailed up in front of 
the saloon. The inscriptions were such as the 
following — 

“No liquor sold here during the rest of this week ! ” 

“Buy your supplies at the Temperance Store! ” 

“Attention! Fresh Candies! Fine Oranges! Come on, 
boys, and have a picnic at the Temperance Store! ” 


A boy’s idea of business. 287 

If these bulletins were remarkable for the 
absence of artistic taste or ability, they were, 
nevertheless, very legible, and the meaning not to 
be mistaken. 

During the morning, two boys engaged by 
Jimmie canvassed the neighborhood with written 
handbills, which stated briefly that Jimmie How- 
land was running a temperance store, and that the 
patronage of the temperance people was earnestly 
solicited. If the people were too busy to come to 
the Corners, the boys were prepared to take their 
orders. By noon two or three men had caught 
the idea, and determined to raise a “boom” for 
Jimmie. Mr. Scott came in and talked a few 
moments, read over the mimic contract and 
laughed heartily, then went out among the farm- 
ers, dropping a hint here and there. 

Two or three men, undismayed by the posters, 
went in, hoping to get their accustomed drinks in 
some way. 

“What does this mean ?” asked one. 

“It means just what those signs say!” 

“ But I suppose we can help ourselves ? ” 

“No, sir! ‘No liquor can be had here while I 
am in charge ! ” 

“Did your father know you were going to set 
up this sort of thing?” 

“What if he did, or what if he didn’t ? ” replied 
the boy proprietor, good-naturedly. 


288 


A boy’s idea of business. 


“Nothing; only he will raise the roof when he 
comes home and finds it out ! ” 

“He can’t find any fault,” said Jimmie. 

“ Can’t ! Why ? ’ 

“Because he has tied his own tongue,” said 
Jimmie, laughing. 

“What do you mean ?” was the next question. 

“I mean that I have a contract with my father, 
giving everything into my charge while he is 
away, and I am going to run this thing as I like. 
Liquor makes me sick to smell it, and I shall not 
have any around.” 

“But your father’s customers won’t like it.” 

“Can’t help it.” 

“They will withdraw their trade.” 

“All the better. I should not care if nobody 
ever bought another glass of liquor here. If I 
could drive that class of customers away, I should 
think it was a good day’s work.” 

“Humph! Your father will not agree with 
you.” 

“ I presume not. But the store is mine for the 
present, and I shall not have any whiskey dealt 
out ; that’s settled ! ” 

The customers went off, half-angry and half- 
amused, saying — “The little upstart! Won’t his 
father give him a settler!” 

Presently Colonel Parsons came down to the 
store; he stopped, read the signs, then walked in. 


A boy’s idea of business. 


289 


“ What’s up now?” 

“ Notices.” 

“ Notices ? ” 

“Yes, sir; didn’t you see them?” 

“ I should say I did ! Say, boy, aren’t you 
carrying things with a high hand?” 

“ I don’t know ; if trade keeps up all day like 
this, I shall carry my hand pretty near the bottom 
of this sugar barrel before night,” replied Jimmie, 
scooping sugar from a half-empty barrel. “Can 
we serve you a cup of hot coffee ? It is all 
ready in the other room, and real Jersey cream, 
too.” 

“And your father consented to this piece of 
nonsense? ” asked the colonel. 

“ My father is not responsible for anything here 
at present. I told him I would not sell liquor, 
and he said I could run things as I pleased. Bet- 
ter let us give you a cup of coffee, sir. You’ll 
find it first-rate.” And Colonel Parsons actually 
sat down to a cup of coffee in what was generally 
used as a card-room. A few pieces of drapery 
judiciously arranged, arid the neighborhood flag, 
which Lizzie Davis had just brought in and 
draped opposite the entrance, with the vase of 
flowers for the table which Beth had sent, gave 
the room a very bright and inviting appearance. 
The table was covered with a white cloth ; and 
Mrs. Swan, entering into the spirit of the occa- 


290 A boy’s idea of business. 

sion, made the coffee, and poured it out for the 
customers, serving the most delicious cakes, made 
after Mame Howard’s recipe. And Marne herself 
was up-stairs with Mrs. Howland, stirring and 
baking more of those same little cakes ; for the 
first batch had gone off so quickly that there was 
need of two pairs of hands to keep up the supply. 

The colonel found the coffee as recommended, 
and quite enjoyed the fun of the situation ; but as 
he went out he felt called upon to give Jimmie a 
word of warning — 

“It seems like a good joke to you, I suppose; 
but I am afraid that there will be a row in the 
camp when your father comes home. Better not 
venture too far, my boy ! ” 

“I am not afraid! Father always lets me do 
what I want to.” 

Dean Wilson was driving to Clayborne that 
afternoon. A mile or two down the valley he 
met a neighbor, and stopped to say — 

“I believe you are a temperance man.” 

“ I believe I am ! ” 

“Well, I want to suggest that you go in to 
Howland’s this afternoon, and order your fall sup- 
ply of groceries.” 

“At Howland’s! I never trade there; the fact 

is, I never go where liquor is sold, if I can avoid 

it. ” 

“I understand; but there is a new departure 


A boy’s idea of business. 291 

up there,” replied Dean, explaining, and adding — 
“ Better go in and encourage the little fellow.” 

“ But, after all, it is a saloon, and whiskey will 
be sold as freely as ever when Howland gets 
back.” 

“Probably; I wish we had amongst us faith in 
this as the beginning of a new order of things. I 
suppose that it is not impossible that Howland 
himself may be brought to see the macter in a 
different light.” 

“It would take a miracle to change him!” 
returned the other. 

“Well, as to that, it has taken a miracle to 
change any of us,” returned Dean. “ But it 
seems to me that when we have a respectable 
place open on the Hill it is a good plan to patron- 
ize it, and I think Jimmie will use the money he 
makes to the advantage of the neighborhood.” 

The boys caught the spirit, and there was a run 
upon the candy cases, and the oranges disap- 
peared like magic. Mr. Scott, coming in that 
evening, and finding the stock running low, the 
coffee-sack empty, and the sugar giving out, vol- 
unteered to go to Clayborne the next day for 
supplies. He took a circuitous route in order to 
give a hint of what was going on to two or three 
families, who, he knew, would be interested to 
some purpose. And so the trade of the second 
day was not at all behind that of the first. The 


292 a boy’s idea of business. 

fame of the coffee and the dainty cakes had 
reached the Gulf, where the railroad employees 
were hard at work, and, in consequence, business 
in that line increased. 

Mr. Howland arrived at Clayborne upon his 
return trip, Saturday, a little after noon. He had 
to wait there an hour or two, and stepped into the 
wholesale grocer’s where he usually obtained his 
supplies. He was greeted with the remark — 

“Trade must be pretty good up your way!” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Why?” 

“I judged from the order I filled yesterday; it 
was considerably larger than usual in some lines.” 

“Yesterday ? 

“Yes; Scott was in with his team, and said he 
was going right out empty, and would take the 
goods ; so we loaded him up. There were three 
barrels of sugar and a sack of coffee ; but here’s 
the bill, isn’t it all right ? ” 

Mr. Howland took the bill and looked it over; 
it was an order in Jimmie’s hand. 

“I knew it wasn’t your writing,” said the gro- 
cer; “but Scott said you were away, and that 
your boy made out the order. Scott said it was 
all right, and I supposed he was reliable.” 

“Oh, yes; it is all right. I have been away, 
and my wife and the boy are running things. I 
presume they sold out, though I supposed they 
had enough in stock.” As he left the dealer’s, he 


A boy’s idea of business. 293 

was saying to himself — “ Three barrels of sugar 
— the boy must be crazy! I never order more 
than two at once, and there was a whole barrel 
when I left. And we had flour enough to keep 
going for a fortnight ! ” He also had occasion to 
go to the bank where his deposits were made. 
The teller remarked — “There was a deposit 
made yesterday in your boy’s name.” 

“Yes — how much was it?” 

The amount staggered him ; never before in all 
his years of liquor selling had he taken in so 
much money -in two days. What did it mean? 
He was in haste to get home. On the way up, 
one of his neighbors took a seat in the stage. 

“Well, how’s things on the Hill?” he asked. 

“Pretty lively! That boy of yours seems to be 
a born store-keeper ! I was in yesterday after a 
quarter o’ tea ; and, if you’ll believe it, he per- 
suaded me into buying a whole pound, and a lot 
of things besides ! He just beats you all to noth- 
ing for business ! ” 

The father was of course pleased to hear these 
things of the boy, but he was puzzled. He had 
expected that, with the assistance of his mother, 
Jimmie would keep the place open, and perhaps 
sell or give away a few ounces of candy and sell a 
few drinks. You see he had not taken the boy’s 
declaration in regard to selling liquor in earnest, 
and it never entered his mind that things would 


294 A boy’s idea of business. 

not be going on about as usual. It is quite prob- 
able that the loquacious driver would have volun- 
teered information, had not that individual been 
too much absorbed in discussing the probability 
that passenger trains would be running inside of 
a month, and in negotiating for the sale of his 
horses with the farmer who occupied the seat in 
front. So when about five o’clock the stage drew 
up in front of his home, Mr. Howland was quite 
unprepared for the unusual sight which met his 
eyes. In addition to the placards put up that 
first morning there was another which read — 

“Ice cream and lemonade served here this 
evening ! ” 

Mr. Munson’s horse and buggy stood in front, 
and Jimmie was tugging at a sack of flour, which 
he was trying to lift into the wagon. Mr. How- 
land’s first impulse was to take the burden from 
the boy’s shoulders ; but checking himself, he 
passed inside, and left him to struggle with it. 
Mrs. Howland was weighing out sugar as her hus- 
band entered. He greeted her, and turned back 
to see Jimmie running in with some packages, 
which the driver had handed out. “ Here, Mr. 
Munson, is the corn-starch that Jennie ordered 
this morning; and if you can just drive up and 
lay this package of cocoa on Mr. Ames’ gate-post, 
they will be on the watch for it.” Then, turn- 
ing toward his father, he sprung forward; and, 


A boy’s idea of business. 295 

putting both hands upon the man’s shoulders, 
bringing his father’s face down to his own, he 
exclaimed — 

‘‘Well, papa, I am glad you came early! I 
need a clerk. Mamma and I are about tired out, 
and we expect a big rush to-night.” 

“ Indeed ! And am I not to take possession, 
now that I am here ? ” 

“Not a bit of it! You know our contract 
reads — ‘Saturday at midnight.’” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“Perfectly sure! Didn’t I write it myself?” 

“ I should say you did ! ” 

“ I tell you, we have been doing a big business ! 
I sent money to deposit yesterday, and again this 
afternoon ; I was afraid to keep so much in the 
house when we were alone ; you know you said 
you might not get home before Monday morn- 
ing,” and Jimmie named the amounts which he 
had deposited. 

“Jimmie Howland, do you mean to tell me that 
you have sold groceries enough to amount to all 
that?” 

“Yes, sir; that is, counting in what we took in 
the other room. I have every sale put down; 
there’s the book. And I have had a lot of new 
customers. You will see the names all there. 
Mr. Scott took a barrel of sugar, and then Mr. 
Ames ordered a barrel ; and I had to send down 


296 A boy’s idea of business. 

for it, and for another barrel to sell out of. But, 
papa, you must be hungry. Just walk into the 
other room, and take a cup of coffee and some 
luncheon.” 

Several people, seeing Mr. Howland in the 
stage, came in, ostensibly upon errands, but really 
to see how he took the new departure. To those 
who knew that he had been to a liquor-dealers’ 
convention the situation was rather amusing. He 
had the good sense to keep his anger — if he felt 
any — in the background, and seemed to enter 
into the joke, as he was pleased to call it. He 
took his coffee, and ate the delicate cakes and 
sandwiches, and said to the gentleman who sat at 
the table with him — “I am sorry I cannot offer 
you a glass of wine, but you see this is a temper- 
ance house.” 

Later, he asked — “Jimmie, who put you up to 
this trick?” 

“Nobody! Not a single person besides myself 
knew what I meant to do until the signs were up. 
I made them myself, out in the barn loft, before 
you went away ; and I didn’t even tell mother ; 
so you can blame no one else.” 

“But do you think you did right?” 

“Yes, sir; I told you I would never sell a drop 
of liquor, and you didn’t say I must ; and then 
you made the proposition that I should have all 
that I could make and run things as I liked, and 


a boy’s idea of business. 297 

I have made a great deal more than you ever did 
in three days, liquor thrown in.” 

“But you have had an extra run of business. 
The people have laid in supplies for a long time, 
and won’t want anything more.” 

“Yes, I have thought of that; but you see I 
haven’t hurt your trade any, because your regular 
customers did not care to take advantage of the 
strike, and did not buy anything extra, so they 
will be buying right along just the same.” 

“You are a young sharper,” said his father, 
laughing heartily. “I suppose now you will 
think about setting up an opposition store and 
running your father out.” 

The evening passed off pleasantly. The ice 
cream was all sold and the lemonade-tank emptied 
several times, and Jimmie was forced to sleep 
with quite a large sum of money in his possession. 
It was about ten o’clock when he delivered the 
keys to his father, saying earnestly — 

“Father, I wish you would keep on this same 
way.” 

“Tut, tut, child! It did very well for a joke, 
but now it is over, we must get back to business 
again.” 

“Business ! ” echoed the boy. “As if we hadn’t 
done the best business in the last three days that 
was ever done on West Hill ! And now to talk 
about getting back to business ! ” 


298 A boy’s idea of business. 

“Boy, you are getting nervous and excited; 
this has been too much for you. Get to bed, and 
don’t get up to-morrow morning until you are 
quite rested.” 

When the boy had gone up-stairs, the man said 
to himself — “I declare, I believe the child really 
hoped I would give up and try his way. He does 
not realize that his wonderful luck was due to the 
fact that a spirit of fun took hold of the people, 
and they tried to see what they could do so that 
he might come out ahead. But, dear me ! He 
must have worked hard. He does not realize 
how much harder work it would be for me to sell 
only groceries. Why, I would much rather sell 
liquor altogether than groceries altogether if I 
could make just as much money by either. Yet 
I hate to disappoint the boy — all the boy I have 
left, too.” And the man thought of three little 
graves where the summer grasses had been grow- 
ing since before Jimmie was born, and again 
he told himself how hard it was to thwart the 
child in any of his wishes. But this was too 
absurd ; he would meet with ridicule from his 
friends if he yielded to the boy’s whim. Besides, 
somebody else would be sure to open a saloon if 
he closed his, and it might be a far less respecta- 
ble one. It was curious how solicitous the man 
suddenly .became for the respectability of the 
neighborhood. True, since the organization of the 


A boy’s idea of business. 299 

Temperance League he had lost several profitable 
customers, and, though he would not acknowledge 
it when Jack Swan had questioned him, he knew 
it to be a fact that trade had fallen off considera- 
bly. He had hoped that the railroad with its 
station so near, would bring more custom, but, as 
he expressed it — “That railroad company were 
the worst fanatics of all. They would not employ 
in any capacity a man who was not a total 
abstainer.” He had tried to treat this affair as a 
practical joke and as something to be laughed at, 
but there was a serious side to it which would 
continually present itself to his mind. The plead- 
ing face and voice of his only son were not to be 
put aside and altogether disregarded, and some 
way there was stealing over the man the convic- 
tion that unless he yielded the point, he would 
surely lose his boy. Not that he feared that the 
boy would desert his home ; but he realized that 
Jimmie was already living in another world, and 
that he could never come into the life the father 
was living; and he exclaimed in sudden anguish — 
“I wish for the boy’s sake I were out of it ! ” He 
did not think at all of his duty to God, or to him- 
self, or to his fellow-creatures ; only how to retain 
the love and confidence of his boy. He was quite 
unused to such sweet and tender thoughts, and he 
tried to shake them off. For a man who had just 
come from a conference of liquor dealers, where 


300 A boy’s idea of business. 

the traffic had been boldly upheld, and where 
strong resolutions of opposition to the rising 
temperance sentiment and of mutual help and 
support had been passed, his thoughts were tak- 
ing a remarkable turn. But perhaps this can be 
accounted for. 

Up-stairs, under cover of the bed-clothes, hav- 
ing obediently gone to bed, Jimmie was praying 
over and over his simple, earnest prayer — “Dear 
Jesus, show my father that it is the best way.” 

Down in the Heckman grove, where the moon- 
light struggled through the thick foliage, and 
where, being under the brow of the hill, the 
soft summer breeze was scarcely felt, John, Dean 
and Rob were sitting upon the rough seats left 
there since the last picnic, talking things over. 
At length, Dean said — “Boys, I suppose we are 
agreed as touching this thing. Then suppose we 
ask it of the Father?” And may we not believe 
that their petitions mingled with Jimmie’s, and 
that together they ascended swiftly to the throne 
of God, and that swifter yet came the answer? 
And is it any wonder that Mr. Howland was 
moved as never before? Had Beth Heckman 
known of the thoughts that were stirring the 
man’s soul, she would have said that he had come 
to his Jordan. Would he cross over into respect- 
ability and virtue, or would he turn back to ways 
of sin ? 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


301 


CHAPTER XXV. 


MEMORIAL STONES 


“ What mean 


these stones ? ” 



OHN HECKMAN was driving home from 


Clayborne one October afternoon. Some- 


thing — it may have been the haziness of the 
atmosphere, the bright tints of the forest, the 
autumn garb of meadow, pasture and corn fields, 
or it may have been the thought of his errand 
to town — recalled so vividly that long, toilsome 
walk up the slope upon another October after- 
noon five years before. How much had come 
into his life since! Days of toil, nights of anxi- 
ety, hours of wrestling, months of waiting, and 
years of patient endurance, disappointments and 
misunderstandings, hopes deferred, and griefs 
which had entered his soul. Yet he had never 
been utterly cast down, never quite discouraged, 
never forsaken. He had never lost sight of the 
pillar and the cloud, and whether the command 


302 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


had been to abide in that place or to go forward, 
to stand or to strike, patience for the one or 
strength for the other had never been withheld. 
As he drove slowly homeward, he thought it all 
over — how they had been led and helped, and 
how, after all these years of struggle, they had 
reached the goal, the “Canaan” toward which he 
and Beth had set out one winter evening when 
the purpose that had been forming in John’s mind 
found expression in a parallelism that had caught 
Beth’s fancy and had been her inspiration ever 
since. The journey had been fully as long and 
wearisome as they had foreseen; the mistakes 
and failures of their young heads and inexperi- 
enced hands had been many. But, as Beth said, 
they had “come out even at last.” And John’s 
errand to Clayborne had been to pay the note in 
full. 

“I think,” said Lawyer Judkins, “that the 
colonel will be surprised. He told me a month 
or so ago that he supposed he might as well give 
it up as a bad debt. None of us suspected that 
you had been laying up money, and we thought 
the colonel would have to wait a few years longer 
for his money.” 

“Nevertheless, it is here, even to the utter- 
most farthing,” returned John ; and having taken 
a proper acknowledgment, he .left the lawyer’s 
office with a light heart. Next, he called on 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


303 


Stephen. Dr. Stephen Heckman was a very dif- 
ferent person from the lounging, shambling young 
fellow of five years before. His figure was erect, 
his step firm, and his speech, while retaining 
some of the old peculiarities, evinced culture and 
strength of character. His welcome was cordial, 
and his response to John’s — “Well, Stephen, the 
Heckmans are out of the wilderness,” was hearty. 

“And you are twenty-one to-day,” he said. “I 
have been thinking about it and wondering how 
you would celebrate.” 

“Well, I have begun the celebration by calling 
upon Judkins and paying up the Parsons note. I 
might have done it before, but I had a fancy that 
I would like to sqaure things to-day,” replied 
John, with a little laugh that sounded like a strain 
out of a song of triumph. Then he added — “I 
came in partly to say that if you want a horse we 
can spare the bay colt. He is fairly well broken, 
and will, I think, answer your purpose very well, 
and mother says she will let you have the money 
for a cart, or gig, or whatever you want in that 
line.” 

Stephen turned himself around, away from the 
desk where he had been writing out a prescription 
for a boy who waited in the outer office. 

“See -here, old fellow, are you not reversing the 
usual order? People generally receive presents, 
instead of bestowing them, on such important 


304 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


anniversaries. Really, when will you have done 
with your ‘ coals of fire ’ ? ” The words and tone 
seemed meant to be jocular, yet there was an 
undertone of pain in them. 

“I don’t understand you,” was John’s surprised 
response. 

“Don’t? Well, no matter. I’ll take the colt, 
and thank you.” Then, laying his hand upon 
John’s shoulder, he said, his voice trembling — 

“John, once for all, let me say that if 1 am any- 
thing better than the miserable, reckless scamp I 
was when you came home, I owe it to you and 
I want to thank you. You sacrificed for me, and, 
after all, you have come out ahead. / can’t afford 
to give away horses.” This last with a little 
gleam of fun through the mistiness in his eyes. 

“That is all right, Steve. You are getting a 
fine start, and will soon be independent. One 
thing more : mother and Beth are getting up a 
‘high tea’ — a birthday cake and all the accom- 
paniments, I suppose — and they want you and 
Lizzie to come out on the four o’clock train. 
They seem to think that my being twenty-one is 
an occasion for a family party.” 

“All right. We have been trying for several 
days to get out to the Hill, but have been kept 
busy with making arrangements for housekeeping. 
We hope to get settled next week, and then, if 
you people out at home think best, we want 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


305 


Frank to come and board with us and begin 
bis Greek at the high school with Professor 
Jennings.” 

It will be concluded that Stephen Heckman 
must have made a man of himself, else Mr. Davis 
would never have been willing to give the happi- 
ness of his only daughter into the young man’s 
keeping. It was not only that he was different 
in outward manner and speech — a radical trans- 
formation had taken place in the inner being. 
Dr. Watson had been a strong, kind friend, yet 
neither out of his own experience nor through his 
belief in the power of God to rescue the tempted 
was he able to help Stephen in those times when 
the old habits of idleness and dissipation threat- 
ened to resume their sway and to drag him down. 
Try as he would, Stephen could never fully adopt 
the doctor’s sceptical views. That which upheld 
John and made him hold to his ideas of right 
under the fire of scorn and persecution, that 
which had transformed Dean Wilson from a reck- 
less, ungodly young man into an earnest Christian 
endeavorer, working and studying with the Chris- 
tian ministry in view, and that which could make 
of the scoffing Tom Munson a leader in the Chris- 
tian endeavor movement in Clayborne, must be 
something more than a delusion. Curiosity to 
see how Tom managed things led him co accept 
the invitation to attend the meetings of the soci- 


30 6 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


ety of which Tom was the president; then a real 
interest followed, and now for two years Clay- 
borne had had no more earnest Christian or zeal- 
ous church-worker than young Dr. Heckman. 

Thinking of all these things, John forgot that 
they would be waiting for him at home. Nowa- 
days they oftener went to Clayborne by rail, but 
John owned a fine horse, and frequently indulged 
his fancy for driving. Dr. Stephen and his wife 
had already arrived by train when he reached the 
house. Frank took his horse to the stable, say- 
ing — “Hurry up; supper is almost ready.” Beth 
was in the kitchen, busy with the puffs that 
were John’s favorites. He stopped to say to 
her — 

“ Well, Beth, the long pull is ended ; we are 
free from debt.” 

The girl drew a long breath, and then said, 
with relief in her tones — 

“ I begin to feel as if we had got there. But, 
John, do go and brush off the dust and get ready 
for tea. We will talk it all over by and by.” 
This she added as John seemed inclined to lin- 
ger for a talk, and, thus admonished, he went off 
to his room to make some changes in his dress in 
honor of Beth’s supper. 

But the puffs which she had mixed with much 
care, and which were coming up beautifully in the 
scorching oven, and which, to be enjoyed, should 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


307 


be eaten as soon as baked, were cold and heavy 
before all were ready to sit down to supper. 

After taking care of the horse, Frank put his 
head in at the door, saying — 

“ I’ll run down to the post-office before supper. 
Won’t I have time? ” and was off without hearing 
Beth’s reply to the effect that he would have to 
hurry. In a few moments he came back, usher- 
ing in at the side-door a stranger, a tall, broad- 
shouldered man, bronzed and bearded, and well 
dressed, saying, by way of introduction — 

“This gentleman wishes to see Mrs. Heckman.” 

“You wish to see my mother, I presume,” said 
Beth, turning to the stranger, adding — “I will 
call her.” 

“If you please — but wait. Is your mother 
quite well? Can she bear anything sudden?” 
Then as the color faded out of Beth’s face, he 
added, quickly — “Don’t be frightened. Beth, 
don’t you know me ? ” 

Beth stood still, looking at the stranger, her 
thoughts all in a whirl. Then, 'suddenly, she 
said — “I don’t know you; but can you be — 
Joe?” 

“Yes; I am Joe, and you are my little sister,” 
and he took the girl in his arms, repeating — “My 
little sister!” Then, releasing her, he said — 
“You will know best how to tell mother.” 

But she did not know at all “How to tell 


3°8 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


mother.” Going into the parlor, where Mrs. 
Heckman sat talking with Dr. Stephen and Lizzie, 
she said — “Well, mother, we shall have to make 
room for another at the table. Some one has 
come by the Lincoln train.” 

Beth thought she kept her voice steady, but, 
in spite of her effort, there was a quiver of joy in 
it, which her mother detected at once. And Ste- 
phen, too, noticed it, though his thought was not 
the same as the mothers. 

“I suppose it is Dean?” he said, laughing. 

“No, it is not Dean; and you will never guess 
who it is. Mother, can you ? ” 

“It is Joe,” interrupted Mrs. Heckman. 

“Well, yes; it is Joe.” 

Mrs. Heckman arose, took a step or two 
toward the dining-room, swayed, and would have 
fallen had not Stephen caught her in his arms. 

Why try to tell it? Joe had come home; and 
they were all in a state of excitement, and the 
mother quite overcome; and that is all there is 
to the story. 

It was a Jong time before they were calm 
enough to think of supper ; but at last Beth came 
down to earth, and announced that they would 
have to eat bread, for the puffs were quite ruined. 
It was explained to Joe that this was an anniver- 
sary and then they sat down, a plate having been 
set for Joe beside his mother. Mrs. Heckman 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


309 


found under her plate the receipt in full from 
Colonel Parson’s lawyer, and Beth opened a queer- 
shaped package, to find a paper-weight composed 
of twelve geological specimens fastened together 
in the form of a rude monument. 

“Memorial stones!” she exclaimed; then more 
explanations were given, until Joe began to under- 
stand the situation. Presently it fell to Stephen 
to cut the birthday cake. In the centre, under 
the frosting, was hidden a small, square box 
directed to “John Heckman.” That young man 
was quite taken by surprise. The box contained 
a handsome gold watch, with a note which was as 
follows — 


“The Israelites set up stones of memorial — twelve of them; 
we have preferred to let the twelve figures on the dial remind 
you of our joyful deliverance and our entrance into Canaan. 

Your friends, 

Mother, Stephen, Lizzie, 

Beth, Frank, Jimmie, 

Dr. Watson.” 

What a happy evening it was ! Joe looked on 
curiously, not more than half understanding these 
brothers and sisters, who seemed almost like 
strangers. Slowly he was gathering into his mind 
all that this anniversary, with its business tran- 
saction and its gifts, meant to the family ; and his 
heart warmed toward the young brother who had 


3io 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


so bravely borne the burden and so courageously 
led them out of their difficulties. 

In all the time of his absence the family had 
heard from Joe but rarely. At long intervals he 
had written to say that he was alive and might 
some day come back; but he never gave them 
any address ; so they never wrote to him, and dur- 
ing the last four or five years they had not heard 
from him at all. Once, when he had been gone 
about six years, he heard from home in a curious 
way. In the course of a long journey Colonel 
Parsons came to a mining town, where he had to 
wait an hour or more for a train. At the station 
he was seen and recognized by Joe Heckman, 
himself quite safe from recognition ; six years 
had changed the slender boy into a full-grown, 
bearded man, whom even his mother would 
scarcely have known as her son. He managed to 
get into conversation with the colonel, and to 
glean some items of information about the affairs 
at West Hill. He threw the colonel quite off the 
track by remarking — 

“Yes, I lived there a while. I worked a spell 
for Crawford on the east side ; you wouldn’t 
remember me, of course, but I knew you. If you 
should see Crawford, just tell him that Addison 
is all right and doing a good job. Yes, I know 
most of the folks by sight. Are the Heckmans 
there yet? ” 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


31 1 

“The Heckmans ? Oh, they are there ; at least, 
one of the boys is running the farm ; they are up 
to their ears in debt — owe me a thousand dollars 
that I’ll be bound they’ll never pay. But they 
show up well ; make pretences of being some- 
body. Poor lot. Steve got disgusted with the 
way things were going and left. The fact is, 
I don’t know much about them. There was 
another boy, but he ran off long ago. I tried to 
help John along; but he wouldn’t be helped, and 
since that I have let them alone.” 

The train was in, and Colonel Parsons took 
his seat ; then, glancing out of the car-window, 
watched the young man as he walked across the 
platform and disappeared around the corner of 
the building. All at once, something in the poise 
of the head and the build of the shoulders 
reminded him of his old neighbor, Joe’s father; 
and he said suddenly to himself — “I declare, I 
believe I have been talking to Joe Heckman!” 
But the train was flying, and the colonel dis- 
missed the subject with a little laugh and the 
thought — “Well, I guess I didn’t give him a very 
good opinion of his folks.” 

And so it was that when Joe made his unex- 
pected appearance at West Hill it would be diffi- 
cult to say which was the more surprised, himself 
or his family. He expected to find them bur- 
dened with debt, and living in a very poor 


312 


MEMORIAL STONES. 


way, with tumble-down buildings and dilapidated 
fences. He was not prepared for the air of com- 
fort, or the neat and well-kept appearance of the 
farm. And withal, he was a little disappointed as 
well as surprised. His had not been fruitless 
toil ; and he had come home with the intention, 
as he said, “of setting the family up in the 
world,” and here they were already “set up.” 
The debt was paid ; they were all doing well ; 
the neighborhood was prosperous, growing rapidly 
into a village ; what was left for him to do ? 
However, he soon rallied from the momentary 
disappointment, realizing that it was an unworthy 
thought, and was able heartily to congratulate 
them all. 

Alone with his mother, he said — “I meant to 
buy my forgiveness and make amends for all the 
past, and now I find everything is done. I threw 
away my chance to do a grand thing, and John 
picked it up. I am glad for him. But that fancy 
about memorial stones gives me an idea; I’ll see 
to-morrow if I can work it out.” 

Coming home from Clayborne the next day, 
he handed John a package, with the remark — 

“Here, my boy, take this as my share in the 
birthday present. I suppose they didn’t run their 
memorial stones through a smelter; but this rep- 
resents twelve gold nuggets, and you may build 
a monument to suit your own ideas.” 


MEMORIAL STONES. 313 

“You may be sure he will build it of law 
books,” exclaimed Beth. 

“And so that is the way the wind blows,” 
returned Joe. 

“If only Colonel Parsons could be won over,” 
said Beth, with a little sigh, when at last she and 
John had found a chance to talk it over. 

“You know,” returned John, with a twinkle in 
his eyes, “that there were tribes to be driven out 
and cities to be taken after they reached Canaan. 
Colonel Parsons may be our Jericho.” 

“By faith the walls of Jericho fell down,” 
quoted Beth. 

“ After they were compassed about seven days,” 
was John’s suggestive quotation as a rejoinder. 

“Yes, with trumpets.” She spoke slowly, as if 
studying a point; “I wonder what our trumpets 


are. 


JERICHO. 




CHAPTER XXVI. 

JERICHO. 

“ Shout ; for the Lord hath given you the city.” 

D URING all these years Colonel Parsons had 
never let slip an opportunity to annoy his 
young neighbor; and when John had sought a 
reconciliation on one or two occasions, he had 
been rudely repulsed ; and if by chance they met 
the colonel never returned John’s courteous sal- 
utation, nor, indeed, appeared to recognize his 
existence. Mrs. Parsons did not share her hus- 
band’s ill feeling toward the Heckmans, though 
all friendly intercourse between the families had 
ceased. Once she said to Beth — 

“My child, I am deeply grieved over this 
trouble. It has made the colonel more bitter 
than ever toward the young people, and more 
opposed to their work in neighborhood reform. 
You know he never took much interest in the 
young folks until he got up that liking for John; 


JERICHO. 


315 


and I was glad of that notion, for I thought it was 
good for him to have John’s hopes and plans and 
queer ideas to think about ; and he actually took 
to reading the Bible, too ! Of course, I do not 
blame your brother for standing by his principles, 
but I wish it needn’t have happened. I have 
sometimes thought that it would have been better 
if John had made some excuse for not selling the 
trees, and not come right out in opposition to the 
colonel’s business.” 

“But, Mrs. Parsons, he couldn’t have done that. 
In the first place, it wouldn’t have been like John; 
and then, you see, we might have an opportunity 
to sell to some one else ; then an excuse would 
have had to be studied up for selling. Don’t you 
see there might be no end of complications?” 

“Oh, yes, the straightforward way is the best 
always, of course ; though it sometimes seems to 
lead us into a wilderness of difficulty. I would 
like to have you come and see me — run in and 
out as you have been used to doing — but I know 
it would not be pleasant for either of us, the 
colonel is so dreadfully set in his prejudices. I 
hope the feeling he now has will wear off in time; 
but, Beth, remember that I am your friend and 
will always be ready to help you or John, if I have 
an opportunity. I shall miss you, my dear.” 

Mrs. Parsons’ life had been wonderfully bright- 
ened by the unwonted intercourse with her young 


3i 6 


JERICHO. 


neighbors, which had been brought about by the 
colonel’s sudden whim, and which had been so 
abruptly cut off because of his unreasonable 
enmity. She had grown to look for Beth’s com- 
ing; and she had become interested in the girl’s 
schemes and ambitions to a remarkable degree 
for one accustomed to live much within herself. 
She missed it all, and had waited through these 
months and years, hoping something would occur 
to soften the colonel’s feelings and take away the 
bitterness. But instead, he piled his grievances 
higher as time went on. The year before John 
was twenty-one, a manufacturing company at Lin- 
coln sent up an agent to purchase those oaks that 
were the cause of the unfortunate estrangement. 
The offer was very liberal, and the Heckmans 
accepted it promptly. Nothing is more certain 
than that in a country neighborhood or in a vil- 
lage (for such West Hill was now becoming), a 
knowledge of a person’s business transactions is 
considered public property, to be talked over and 
gossiped about ; hence the matter was not long in 
coming to Colonel Parsons’ ears, and he not know- 
ing that the money received from the sale was 
safely deposited awaiting the day of settlement, 
as agreed upon between him and John, saw only 
another evidence of an intention on the part of 
his debtors never to pay the debt. 

There had been other matters in the neighbor- 


JERICHO. 


317 


hood which had not been pleasing to Mr. Parsons. 
When Mr. Howland, in the depths of the night- 
watch, had listened to the tender, pleading voices 
of his dead children, to the earnest appeal of his 
only living child, to the promptings of the Spirit 
of God, and had resolved that he would give to 
his boy a father of whom he need not be ashamed, 
and when he had proceeded to carry out his 
resolve, the colonel was more than surprised ; he 
felt as though he had received a personal affront. 
He had been one of Mr. Howland’s strongest sup- 
porters, signing the petition for the license and 
using his influence to induce others to sign it. 
Personally, Colonel Parsons had no political ambi- 
tions; but he was interested in politics, and held 
the opinion that he controlled the vote of West 
Hill, and it was well understoo 1 that he controlled 
it for the saloon. With the caloon abolished 
where would be the petty power that he had 
enjoyed ? Finding Mr. Howland determined to 
close out the business, he tried to buy him out; 
failing in this, he resolved to set up a new saloon, 
and forthwith applied for a license. He had suc- 
ceeded in getting the required number of names 
upon his petition, though he was not very proud 
of some of them. To his great astonishment his 
petition was rejected. There were two or three 
causes which led to this result, so gratifying .to 
the majority of the people of West Hill, though 


318 


JERICHO. 


'very unexpected and displeasing to the petitioner 
himself. One member of the board had long car- 
ried a personal grievance against Colonel Parsons, 
and here was an opportunity for revenge. A pro- 
test against the granting of license at West Hill, 
bearing numerous signatures, had been presented ; 
yet it is quite probable that this might have been 
disregarded but for the added weight of Commis- 
sioner Hardin’s grudge. Upon such matters as 
the indulgence of a personal pique do important 
interests turn. The third member of the board 
had, by dint of great effort, been elected by 
the no-license party. It would be interesting to 
begin at that Fourth of July with its “New 
Declaration of Independence,” and to trace the 
steps that had led up to this partial victory of the 
temperance people of the township of Clayborne, 
and to note how the influence of the Temperance 
League had spread and been felt in remote neigh- 
borhoods ; but all this can only be hinted at in 
this chronicle. When Colonel Parsons found him- 
self thwarted in his schemes, he was not slow to 
locate the blame. He declared angrily — 

“It is all John Heckman’s doings. He is the 
most mischievous person in the community.” 

“Seems to me,” remarked Mrs. Parsons, “that 
you are giving that young man credit for a great 
deal of influence; why, he is only a boy and a 
very quiet one ; surely he can have very little 


JERICHO. 319 

politica] influence, and I suppose it is politics that 
decides such matters.” 

“ All the same, the young upstart has set going 
the revolution that is overturning things here on 
the Hill. The young folks all follow him like a 
flock of sheep, and some of the older men act 
about as silly and senseless.” 

“ But what you call a revolution seems to be in 
some respects a good thing; I am sure the boys 
are not nearly so lawless as they used to be. It 
is a good while since you have had any trouble on 
account of their stealing the. fruit.” 

“Nonsense, wife! You women imagine that 
because two or three young fellows have taken to 
preaching, the whole neighborhood must be get- 
ting pious. You needn’t take any stock in it. It 
is all just a cloak to cover up wickedness.” 

“I don’t see any necessity for a cloak,” replied 
Mrs. Parsons; “I am sure the evil-disposed people 
around here have always got along and been very 
comfortable without any such covering. Why 
should they take to wearing a cloak, which, if 
worn for the purpose you hint at, must be very 
ill-fitting and uncomfortable ? ” 

Secretly, Mrs. Parsons was very glad of her 
husband’s disappointment, though she knew that 
things might run with considerable friction for a 
time. 

The teacher whom Colonel Parsons engaged for 


320 


JERICHO. 


the year following his election as trustee proved a 
failure, and the following year the old trustee was 
re-elected ; and to the gratification of the boys 
and girls, Mr. Heckman was again installed 
as principal, a position that he held for two 
years. 

When the plans for building a chapel were 
divulged, there was a lively interest manifested. 
Only a few opposed the plan ; for the most part, 
the people were very liberal in giving money, 
labor and materials. Mr. Scott was the strong 
and ready helper of those who had undertaken 
to carry the scheme through. “Capital!” he 
exclaimed, when Dean and John went to talk it 
over with him. “Just go ahead! I’ll tell you, 
boys, what I’ll do; you know that three-cornered 
lot where the arm of the ravine branches off? It 
is the prettiest spot anywhere around. I used to 
think I would build a house there some day ; but 
I guess the old homestead where my mother lived 
is a good enough spot for me to live and die in, 
and I’ll give you young folks that corner for the 
Lord’s house ! I hope it will be counted in on 
my reckoning ; but I don’t know — I suppose if I 
give it just to get ahead of Parsons, it won’t 
count for much!” The profits of Jimmie How- 
land’s first business venture went into the build- 
ing, and the spirit of sacrifice took hold of the 
hearts of young and old, so that the work moved 



,, 

V 




1 $ 

4 '- 

\ 




IHK CHAPEL. 







JERICHO. 


321 


rapidly forward. It is probable that the school 
building would have been re-opened, so strongly 
was the public sentiment setting that way; but 
having once started on that line, the people deter- 
mined to go forward and build. Colonel Parsons 
stood almost alone in his opposition, and though 
three years had passed since the building was fin- 
ished and dedicated to the service of education 
and religion, he had never crossed its threshold. 
Mrs. Parsons had smuggled in a generous con- 
tribution toward the building fund, and often 
attended the services held in the completed edi- 
fice, which was at once an ornament and a con- 
venience to the neighborhood. 

Though John Heckman was popular among his 
neighbors and in the school, and a leader of the 
young people, yet Colonel Parsons succeeded in 
making things very uncomfortable for him; and 
he often found his plans thwarted and his influ- 
ence undermined by this implacable enemy. It 
was no wonder that with their way of looking at 
things John and Beth felt that here was a “Jeri- 
cho, ” walled about so that their love and friend- 
ship and neighborly kindnesses — and more than 
these, including them all, Christ — found no way 
of entrance. That wall of enmity and opposition 
stood in the way of their further progress, and 
seemed impregnable; yet, as Beth had quoted, 
“By faith the walls of Jericho fell down,” and 


322 


JERICHO. 


now these young workers began in earnest to 
compass the city about with prayer. 

Colonel Parsons received a note from his law- 
yer that his claim against -the Heckmans had been 
paid in full and the funds deposited to his order. 
This was, as Lawyer Judkins had predicted, a sur- 
prise to the colonel, but a very gratifying one. 

“Now, wife,” he said, “we ought to have a jol- 
lification of some sort. Shall we go on a journey, 
or give a party? I suppose you would like to 
have new carpets and new parlor furniture, eh ? ” 
“I will tell you what I would like to do — 
invite Mrs. Heckman and her family to tea, and 
ask the Wilsons and the Davises. It is a long 
time since we had a tea-party.” 

The boldness of this proposition fairly took 
away the colonel’s breath. As soon as he could 
master himself, he said — 

“You are the mistress of the house — you can 
invite whom you please, and feast them as you 
like; but I shall be away the day the Heckmans 
are invited here ! ” 

“ Oh, of course, if you do not wish to entertain 
them, that ends it. But it really seems to me 
that there is no occasion for keeping up an ill feel- 
ing any longer. The Heckmans are now free 
from any obligation to you, and it might be just 
as well to secure their friendship. You can never 
tell what a friend may be worth to you.” 


JERICHO. 


323 


“We have got along without them for quite a 
spell, and I guess we can stand it a while longer,” 
said the colonel, a little gruffly. 

“ Perhaps we can, but you have held that old 
grudge long enough. It makes us all uncomforta- 
ble ; and now you have your money, you can 
afford to be generous and overlook the whole mat- 
ter, even supposing John to have been to blame.” 

“I confess I never looked for getting a cent 
without a process of law ; but I do not see why, 
because people have paid their honest debts, they 
should be at once feasted and taken up for bosom 
friends.” Then, noticing that his wife’s eyes 
were filling with tears, he added — “Now, wife, 
I’ll give you half this money out and out to do 
what you please with, if you will only rest satisfied 
with things as they are. In fact, I’ll promise to 
do anything else you are a mind to ask.” 

Mrs. Parsons looked up quickly, and seemed 
about to speak, then checked herself, and with a 
weary sigh resumed the work she had dropped 
during the conversation. 

“What is it?” said the colonel, more gently 
than was his wont. “You were going to ask 
something? ” 

“It is nothing.” 

“But it is something! You were going to ask 
something, and you know I promised,” insisted 
the colonel. 


324 JERICHO. 

“Well, I can tell you what came into my mind, 
though I will not ask you to keep your promise; 
for perhaps this would be as distasteful as mak- 
ing up with the Heckmans. I was wishing you 
would so far lay aside your prejudices as to go to 
the chapel with me sometimes. It would not be 
much to do, and I think you would enjoy things 
that are held there. And it would be pleasant for 
me to have my husband go with me sometimes.” 

Some way, just at that moment the worn look 
on his wife’s face struck the colonel. He was 
fond of his wife, and had never thought how 
she cared about his not going with her. The 
neighbors would think it queer if he should 
take to church-going — but what did he care for 
the neighbors? They might think what they 
pleased ; he had promised ; and if this thing 
would please his wife and she would drop the 
Heckman question, he would go for once, any 
way. 

Ever since the chapel was opened the Chris- 
tian Endeavor Society had maintained a Sunday 
evening service. It was not their regular society 
prayer-meeting; that was held on Friday evening. 
The Sunday evening meeting was of a varied 
character. Sometimes the pastors of Clayborne 
came out to preach ; sometimes they held a •mis- 
sionary meeting, a temperance concert, and then 
again a Bible reading. The service was always 


JERICHO. 


325 


well attended, whatever might be its nature. 
On chat particular evening when Colonel Parsons 
made his first appearance in the chapel, Dean 
Wilson was the leader in a Bible reading. The 
subject was, “What We Owe to the Lord.” 

I presume that during the days when the 
great company of Israelites compassed the city in 
silence, the dwellers in that walled city must have 
heard the sound of trumpets, though giving no 
sign that they heard. Colonel Parsons appeared 
indifferent as usual, but one verse of that Bible 
reading reached his ears and found lodgment in 
his heart — “Unto whomsoever much is given, of 
him shall be much required,” were the words that, 
read out in a clear voice, seemed meant for the 
man who, intrenched in his pride and his stub- 
bornness, never asked what was “required,” but, 
“what did Colonel Parsons will to do?” 

Said the leader — “To some of us God has 
given the strength of youth, the vigor of man- 
hood ; to some, long years and wide experience ; 
to some, wealth ; to some, opportunities for study. 
Does our active labor correspond to our strength 
and vigor ; our record of work left behind to our 
long years? Do our deposits in the treasury of 
the Lord correspond with our deposits in the 
banks ? Are we making our treasures of knowl- 
edge tell for the advancement of the kingdom?” 
The words were very simple, but Colonel Parsons 


326 


JERICHO. 


felt that for his lengthened life he had given no 
return, for his wealth hoarded up in bonds and 
bank stocks he had paid no dividend. 

It was not the only time he attended the Sun- 
day evening service. Indeed, it came to be quite 
the common occurrence for him to accompany his 
wife; but, so far as any one knew, he went only 
to please her. Sometimes he made a sneering 
remark, which led her to wonder if it would not 
have been better to have let things go on as they 
were. And so weeks went by, John and Beth 
sometimes wondering when the crisis would come, 
when they would hear the command to shout. 

One dark, rainy November evening they were 
returning from the evening service. Neither Mr. 
Parsons nor his wife had been present, which was 
not strange, considering the weather. John was 
swinging a lantern, and Beth, with a waterproof 
wrapped about her, was picking her way as best 
she could amid the puddles of mud and water that 
the light revealed. As they passed the colonel’s 
house, they noticed a light in the carriage-barn, 
and then heard a voice, which they at once recog- 
nized as the colonel’s — 

“Hullo, there! Is it any one who can drive 
this horse down after Dr. Watson ? My wife is 
sick — dying, I am afraid — and Patrick is away.” 

Handing Beth his lantern, John sprung across 
the street, and, without a word after his answer- 


JERICHO. 


327 


in g shout, “Yes, I’ll go!” he slipped the traces 
over the hooks, buckled the reins, and springing 
into the carriage, took from the colonel’s hand the 
lantern with its reflector, and, fastening it upon 
the dash-board, drove off in the rain and darkness. 
When Beth told her story at home, Mrs. Heck- 
man, with Joe as an escort, went at once to the 
bedside of the sick woman. In an incredibly 
short time Dr. Stephen entered. He was greeted 
with the colonel’s not very cordial “I expected 
Dr. Watson.” 

“Yes, sir; and he will be here soon, I hope. 
He was out of town, coming in from the North at 
twelve, and Dr. Elmer is also away. So John 
drove to the station to bring Dr. Watson up with- 
out delay as soon as the train comes in, and I 
came to tell you and to do what I can in the 
meantime — that is, if you will let me.” As he 
explained, he was rapidly divesting himself of his 
wet wraps and warming his benumbed fingers at 
the fire that was glowing in the dining-room 
stove. “The doctor cannot get here before one 
o’clock, and it is now half-past ten.” And he 
stood awaiting the colonel’s commands, quiet, dig- 
nified, yet with a keen look in his eyes and an 
alert expression on his face, which, more than 
anything else, led his host to say — 

“Well, I suppose you may as well see if you 
can do anything to relieve her. She will die if 


328 


JERICHO. 


something is not done.” And rather ungra- 
ciously he led the way to the sick-room. 

The train was late that night, and it was nearly 
two o’clock when John and Dr. Watson arrived. 
At first, in response to John’s hurried statement 
of the case, Dr. Watson declared he would not go, 
that Dr. Stephen was equal to almost any emerg- 
ency. But, upon being told that very likely the 
colonel would refuse to accept the services of 
Stephen, he consented to go. In a pouring rain 
they drove up the hill, the doctor grumbling all 
the way over the stupidity and obstinacy of people 
in general and of Colonel Parsons in particular. 

They found the patient resting quietly, having 
had no return of the paroxysms for an hour, and, 
after listening to Dr. Stephen’s account, the elder 
physician, turning to Colonel Parsons, said, in his 
giuffest tone — “Parsons, you owe that young fel- 
low a debt of gratitude. I think I’ll lie down 
and leave him to watch, and we will go home 
together by daylight.” And then they persuaded 
the excited husband to try to get some rest. So 
it was Mrs. Heckman and her son who watched 
by the sick woman through the slowly pass- 
ing hours. With the breaking day the patient 
opened her eyes, and, recognizing Mrs. Heckman 
bending over her, she whispered faintly — 

“I have been very sick. But this must have 
been God’s way.” 


JERICHO. 


329 


Two days later, as she lay back upon her pillow, 
pale but restful, and with a happy light in her 
eyes, the colonel said — “Well, wife, your tea- 
party wasn’t just as you planned it, but it was a 
success. I guess we have had all the Heckmans 
here, if not all together.” Then, as she turned a 
questioning glance toward him, he added — “Yes; 
it is all right. I told John this morning that I 
had been an old fool, and that after this there 
would always be room on the road I travel for two 
people with opinions. The fact is, a man with an 
opinion is apt to want the whole road. I ain’t 
converted yet to John’s way of thinking, but I 
don’t know — may be I’ll get there. I tell you, 
wife, when you lay so sick I was almost ready to 
promise anything.” 

Then he went hurriedly out as if he were 
ashamed of this unwonted manner of speech, but 
really he wanted to get away from that ever- 
recurring Bible verse — “Unto whomsoever much 
is given of him shall be much required.” The 
obligation had been heavy before; now his wife, 
whom, in his rough fashion, he loved, had been 
given back to him. How should he pay the 
debt ? 


330 COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 


“Who is like unto thee, O people saved by the Lord? ” 


I WONDER at your choice of the law as a pro- 
fession,” said Joseph Heckman, after listen- 
ing to John’s plans. “I should have guessed that 
you would have chosen to study theology. That 
seems more in your line.” 

“That is where you are mistaken. My tastes 
run in the line of law and politics. A preacher of 
the gospel I mean to be always and everywhere; 
but I do not think I am called to the ministry. I 
believe that God calls men to their work, what- 
ever it may be, just as truly as He calls them to 
the ministry. The world needs Christian law- 
yers — men who will dare to labor for the enact- 
ment and execution of laws founded upon the 
word of God ; and it seems to me that at the pres- 
ent time, with the crisis that is at hand in the 
fight against the enemies that threaten to under 


COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 33 1 

mine and overthrow our institutions, there is an 
imperative need, a call, for men of conscience and 
courage to step to the front.” 

“But does not the same call come to ministers; 
and would you not then have greater opportuni- 
ties, and more power to influence and accomplish 
more of the work of saving souls, which I believe 
you Christians put first as to importance?” 

“That is a work that, I believe, calls for the 
exercise of talents that I do not possess; and” — 
here John hesitated for a moment, then went on 
in a tone which was an apology for talking about 
himself — “if as a lawyer, and if in God’s way 
and time it might come to me to be a law-maker 
I could do even a little toward putting away an 
evil that every year brings thousands upon thou- 
sands to hopeless graves, and so clear the way for 
those whose work it is to save and bring into the 
light individual souls, shall I not be doing a good 
work and rendering acceptable service to God and 
humanity? There is a call for consecrated talent 
and consecrated service in other lines than in the 
gospel ministry. If I were making, as I think 
some do, a compromise with conscience, putting 
this promise of faithful Christian work in place of 
obedience to the command to preach the word, 
mother’s fears would very likely be realized. She 
thinks the pathway of those in the legal profes- 
sion peculiarly beset with temptation. But if in 


332 COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 

this the ‘ pillar of fire’ goes before, I shall know 
that I am in the right path, and that is enough for 
me to know.” 

“It is all right,” said Joe, laughing a little; 
“you may be whatever you please, but you’ll be a 
preacher to the end of your days. I am willing 
you should study law; but I did not exactly see 
how with your notions, which have cropped out 
considerably in the little time I have been at 
home, you could decide to do it. But I under- 
stand; you mean to sanctify the profession.” 

“I mean to consecrate everything to the serv- 
ice of God and humanity,” said John, earnestly. 

Joseph Heckman did not more than half com- 
prehend this young brother ; but the more he 
learned of the history of the past five years, and 
the more he saw of the results of the labor with 
which these years had been filled, the more he 
respected and admired John. He could not at all 
enter into and appreciate the motives that had 
prompted John, or the principles by which he had 
been guided and upheld ; yet in the few weeks of 
his intercourse with the family at home he had 
come to honor and respect the Christian religion 
as never before. 

In family council it had been decided that 
John should yield his place as head of the home 
affairs to Joe, and should enter a law school in the 
city. At first it seemed as if West Hill could 


COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 333 

not spare John Heckman, as if the Heckman 
household could not spare him. But John said — 
“ My work here is done. I thought I was going 
to live on here and enjoy the Canaan ; but there 
seems to be a new life opening before me, and I 
must listen to the summons.” 

It was not easy to leave the home and neigh- 
borhood that had grown so dear through trials 
endured and victories gained — the well-stocked 
farm with the orderly barns ; the house with its 
pleasant rooms and inside comfort as well as out- 
side neatness ; the chapel, the school, the friends 
of the Sunday School, the Christian Endeavor 
Society and the C. L. S. C. ; all his familiar 
round of work must be left behind just when 
there had been lifted from his shoulders the bur- 
den that had rested there for years. 

As he was to enter upon his studies at once, he 
had little time even for farewell calls. Perhaps it 
was not surprising that he lingered longest at 
Marne Howard’s. Ever since that winter night 
when he had taken Clarence home, Mame had 
turned to John for help, which he was only too 
glad to give. As they stood together in the hall, 
saying a few last words, Mame, with quivering 
voice, said — 

“John, you will look after Clarence, will you 
not? I do not think he is doing as well as he 
ought, and since Jack Swan went to the city 1 am 


334 COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 

more troubled than before. Sometimes I think 
that Satan has made a special agent of Jack to 
ruin my brother. I know it is asking a great deal 
of you ; you will be so busy ; yet ” — 

“Marne” — John spoke quickly, as the girl hes- 
itated for a moment — “you could not ask too 
much of me. I will do all I can to save Clarence. 
And you will be praying for us both?” 

It was not an easy burden that John had thus 
assumed at the outset of his new life. To look 
after and try to lead back to the right paths one 
so seemingly determined to go astray required a 
great outlay of time, strength and patience, and 
the exercise of a strong faith in the power of God 
to save. It called for many a long, weary search 
in places not pleasant for John Heckman to 
enter, for many hours of watching, for much 
patient waiting, while the answer to earnest 
prayer seemed afar off. 

And so, filled with study and with labor, not 
only for Marne’s brother, but for. others whose 
steps tended downward, John Heckman’s days 
were passed until he had completed the course of 
study marked out for himself and had passed his 
examinations. 

And then? 

****** 

The other day, just when the world was bright 
and fragrant with the June roses, when the mead- 


COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 335 

ows were all dotted with the daisies, and the red 
strawberries were peeping out from under the 
green leaves, when the bobolinks were pouring 
out melody, and the bluebirds and the yellow- 
birds were making dashes of color through the air, 
Mrs. Heckman, with a few guests, sat upon the 
piazza, which was Joe’s addition to the old house. 
Out under the trees, swinging in the hammocks 
and sitting in garden chairs, there was a group of 
young people. Among the older ones Colonel 
Parsons was saying — 

“Well, now, I wouldn’t have believed that such 
changes could come to a place inside of eight 
years! There’s John a lawyer, admitted yester- 
day ! Well, I might have known it that day he 
came to talk about paying the debt. He knew 
then a lot more law than I did, and I have been 
litigating more or less for forty years. And the 
wedding is going to be in the fall ? Well, they 
say that John has been the making of Clarence, 
but I guess he and Marne will have to watch over 
the fellow a spell yet. There’ll never be any 
safety for such as have the appetite fastened upon 
them until the saloon is ruled out of the country. 
Yes, I am made over! That’s the greatest mir- 
acle of all. The days of miracles are not past, 
according to my way of thinking. And Dean 
Wilson a preacher and going to marry our Beth 
as soon as he gets through the seminary! And 


336 COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 

that is one thing I came over to talk about ; I am 
going to give the setting-out! No use to talk; 
you have got Frank to push through his educa- 
tion, and ways enough for money; and John has 
some up-hill work yet ; so I am going to set Dean 
and Beth up in life. And I shall do it hand- 
somely, too. They tell me that Steve is doing 
wonders in the city, curing some old fellows that 
never expected to be cured. He has got a knack 
for doctoring; I knew that ever since I caught 
him dissecting a calf one day down in the lot, 
though I scolded him roundly for fooling away his 
time. Then when he fixed my wife up, that time 
he came without being sent for, he showed his 
skill finely. Joe seems to be turning out quite a 
farmer and business man generally, and the way 
he is taking hold of church affairs is wonderful. 
Well, I never expected to live to see a church 
organized here on the hill, and I never expected 
to belong to it. I tell you, it was a good day for 
us when John came home.” 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Heckman ; “John did a 
good work here, but you must remember that the 
new railroad has been a great help to West Hill. 
And a great many things have been done, which 
could never have been brought about but for 
that.” 

“ Well, that may be so ; but I heard something 
the other day that brings John out ahead for all 


COLONEL PARSONS SUMS UP THE CASE. 337 

that ! They say that one day he was coming over 
from Lincoln in the stage, and a man who was a 
passenger complained of the hard ride over the 
hills, and John said there ought to be a railroad 
across. The man said it would cost too much ; 
the grade would be too heavy, and any way they 
would have to tunnel. But John had studied the 
hills pretty thoroughly, and he spoke up and said 
there was a way to get through ; then he went on, 
and told how by running up south a way, there 
was a pass. The man seemed to like to talk, and 
he drew John out. Jt seems he was one of the 
capitalists that went into the railroad company, 
and they do say that the road would never have 
been built if John hadn’t given a hint of what was 
possible.” 

At this they all laughed, and Beth, who had 
left the group under the trees and seated herself 
on the step at the colonel’s feet, exclaimed — 
“Well, you are making out quite a case for John.” 

“He does not need an advocate,” replied the 
colonel; “his work tells.” 

“I have sometimes wondered,” said Mrs. Par- 
sons, “what could be the secret of John’s life.” 

“I can tell you,” replied Beth; “he is con- 
stantly turning aside to listen ! ” 

And then a silence fell upon them all. 


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( 4 ) 

A story of the Last Crusade. 

THE LITTLE DUKE : Richard the Fearless. i2mo, lllua 

trated, i.oo. ( 4 ) 

LITTLE LUCY’S WONDERFUL GLOBE. 23 full-page 

illustrations, i2mo, cloth, .75. 

HISTORICAL SERIES. 


Recommended by the State Boards of several States for their public school libraries. 


Miss Yonge, while always boldly and continuously outlining the course of historical 
events, has the knack of seizing upon incidents which reveal the true character of his- 
torical personages, so that these volumes are eminently calculated to teach as well as 
to interest. The language is simple yet expressive, the freedom of treatment bold yet 
accurate. The characters appear and disappear with all the serious brevity of moving 
time, and seem to speak for themselves. 

YOUNG FOLKS’ BIBLE HISTORY. i2tno, illustrated, 
1. So. 


“ The author presents in her dramatic 
style many of the striking incidents and 
stories of the sacred book. It is not only 
entertaining, but as fascinating as any 
romance, yet nothing of the spirit of the 
Bible is disturbed, and the lesson is only 
more vividly brought out by the genius 
of the artist.” — Western Educational 
Joiir7ial, Chicago. 


“ One of the best books for its purpose 
which we have found.” — Christian 
Register. 

“We shall be much mistaken if this 
book does not prove to be useful in many 
homes, in fixing the facts of Scripture 
history in the young minds and in giving 
them a good perspective of that history 
as a whole.” — Independent , New York. 


YOUNG FOLKS’ HISTORY OF ENGLAND. i2mo, 

illustrated, 1.50. 

Beginning with a period prior to the Christian era, it outlines English history 
through the vicissitudes of the Roman, Danish and Norman invasions, through the 
subsequent civil strifes, and a large portion of the peaceful reign of the good Victoria. 
Only those facts are presented which are at once most picturesque, most interesting 
and most easily comprehended. In the hands of the young it is an irresistible tempta- 
tion to history. 

YOUNG FOLKS’ HISTORY OF FRANCE. i2mo, illus- 
trated, 1.50. 

To arrange the confused facts of French history in such an order as to make them 
comprehensible to children is a difficult task. Miss Yonge has undertaken to do this 
and has succeeded admirably. She has done more than tell an interesting story, for 
she has attached some real characteristic to each reign, and has translated the leading 
political motives into something that can enter an intellect of seven or eight years old. 


SELECT LIST OF BOOKS. 


BATES (Clara Doty). 

iESOP'S FABLES (Versified). With 72 full-page illustrations 
by Garrett, Lungren, Sweeney, Barnes and Hassam. Quarto ) 
cloth, 1.50. (4) 


“ Mrs. Bates has turned the wit and 
wisdom in a dozen ot ./Esop’s Fables 
into jolly rhythmical narratives, whose 
good humor will be appreciated by wide- 


awake young people.” — Boston Journal. 

“ The illustrations introduce all classes 
of subjects, and are original and superior 
work. ’ ’ — Boston Globe. 


BLIND JAKEY. Illustrated, i6mo, .50. ( 5 ) 

HEART’S CONTENT. i2mo, 1.25. 

See Child Lore (Clara Doty Bates, editor). 


BATES (Katherine Lee). 

SUNSHINE. Oblong 32010, illustrated by W. L. Taylor, .50. 

A little poem, in which the wild flowers and sunshine play their part in driving 
away the bad temper of a little lass who had hidden away in the grass in a fit of sulks. 

SANTA CLAUS RIDDLE. A Poem. Square 12010, illus- 
trated in colors, paper, .35. 

See Wedding-Day Book (Katherine Lee Bates editor). 


BEDSIDE POETRY. 


Edited by Wendell P. Garrison. i6mo, plain cloth, .75; fancy 
cloth, 1. 00. 

This collection is for the home, and for a particular season. “ Few fathers and 
mothers.” says Mr. Garrison, “appreciate the peculiar value of the bedtime hour for 
confirming filial and parental affection, and for conveying reproof to ears never so 


attentive or resistlesss. Words said then 
high moral tone and, at the same time, of 
which will bear good fruit in the future.” 

“There is seldom a compilation of 
verse at once so wisely limited and so 
well extended, so choice in character and 
so fine in quality as Bedside Poetry, edi- 
ted by Wendell P. Garrison. He has 
chosen four-score pieces * of a rather high 
order, the remembrance of which will be 
a joy forever and a potent factor in the 
formation not merely of character but of 
literary taste.’ Therefore he has given 


sink deep, and the reading of poetry of a 
an attractive character, is apt to plant seed 

Emerson and Cowper, Wordsworth, 
Leigh Hunt, Shelley, Southey, Coler- 
idge, William Blake, Burns, Thackeray, 
Lowell, Tennyson, Shakespeare, Mrs. 
Hemans, Mrs. Kemble, Holmes, Whit- 
tier and Arthur Hugh Clough. We find 
cheer and courage, truth and fortitude, 
purity and humor, and all the great posi- 
tive virtues, put convincingly in these 
selections.” — Springfield Republican. 


BELL (Mrs. Lucia Chase). 

TRUE BLUE. i2mo, 10 illustrations by Merrill, 1.25. ( 5 ; 

The scene is laid in the far West, and the incidents are such as could only occur in 
a newly developed country, where even children are taught to depend upon themselves. 

“Doe, the warm-hearted, impulsive .copying by those who read her adven- 
heroine of the story, is an original char- tures and experiences.” — Detroit Post. 
acter, and one whose ways are well worth 


D. LOTHROP COMPANY’S 


WONDER STORIES OF SCIENCE. 


By Rev. D. N. Beach, Amanda B. Harris, Mary W. Fisher and 
others. i2mo, fully illustrated, 1.25. ( 5 ) 


Recommended by the State Board of Minnesota and other States for use m their 
public school libraries. 


“ Twenty-one charming sketches are 
included in this little volume. The boys 
can make an excursion in a balloon, the 
girls can spend an afternoon in a Christ- 
mas card factory, or they can go to 
another factory and see how numberless 
women earn their living by making dolls’ 
shoes. One chapter tells how newspap- 


ers are made, another, where and how 
umbrellas are made, etc., etc. There is 
a great deal of information to be ob- 
tained in this little book, and all in a 
wonderfully delightful way. ” — Christian 
Observer, Louisville, Ky. 

“ It is as interesting as fiction.” — 
Zion's Herald, Boston. 


WONDER STORIES OF TRAVEL. 


1 2mo, fully illustrated, 1.25. (5) 

Recommended by the State Board of Minnesota and other States for use in their 
public school libraries. 

Tales written by several writers in which peculiarities of people and things abroad 
are brought out. 


“ It is in a line of books peculiar to this 
house, in being intended to agreeably 
teach the young how to see and enjoy the 
earth and life about them. This book, 


and several of its class from these pub- 
lishers, has special claims upon parents 
who seek to direct the reading of their 
young.” — Boston Globe. 


WOODS (Kate Tannatt). 


SIX LITTLE REBELS. 

“ This is a story of boys and girls dur- 
ing the first years of our Civil War. The 
‘ little rebels ’ were five boys, brothers 
and cousins, and a colored servant, a veri- 
table male Topsy, who were sent from 
Richmond to Washington and placed 
under the guardianship of a good doctor 
there, an old friend of their parents. 
. . . The story of their pranks and their 


i2mo, illustrated by Boz, 1.50. 

sorrows, their visits to Boston and sum- 
mers by the sea in Massachusetts, with 
the sombre war cloud hanging over all, 
and giving an undertone of pathos to the 
narrative, is charmingly told. Glimpses 
are caught here and there of President 
Lincoln, General McClellan and other 
famous persons.” — Worcester Spy. 


DOCTOR DICK (A Sequel to “Six Little Rebels”). 121110, 
illustrated by Boz, 1.50. 

OUT AND ABOUT ; or, The Hudsons’ Trip to the Pacific. 

Square 8vo, cloth 1.75; boards, 1.25. ( 5 ) 

Cape Cod to the Golden Gate with a lot of young folks along and plenty of yams by 
the w; y. Pictures of now and then a sight, but a great deal more in the type*. 


WOODS (William S.). 

HOW BENNY DID IT. izmo, 1.25. ( 5 ) 

The writer of this story is a business man of long experience, and he was moved to 
its preparation by a fact w'hich experience had shown him that there is much in cur- 
rently received business principles — even among those whom we call good men — that 
is wrontr, and so wrong as to be not only injurious to him upon whom, but by whom 
committed. He places the hero of the story, Bennie Stout, in positions to exemplify 
this fact, and to show how a boy of good principle and a strong will can not only rei" 
temptation himself, but can even exert an influence over his elders. 


SELECT LIST OF BOOKS. 


ARNOLD (Edwin). 

Oliver Wendell Holmes says of his poetry : “ It is full of variety, now picturesque, 
now pathetic, now rising into the noblest realms of thought and aspiration; it hnds 
language penetrating, fluent, elevated, impassioned, musical, always to clothe its 
varied thoughts and sentiments.” 

EDWIN ARNOLD BIRTHDAY BOOK. Edited by the 
Poet’s daughters. 24010, gilt edges, 1.25; morocco, 2.50; seal, 2.50. 

It contains an autograph introductory poem by Edwin Arnold, and choice quota- 
tions trom his poems for every day. The many admirers of the “ Light of Asia” 
will gladiy welcome this graceful souvenir of the author, which is handsomely illus- 
trated and daintily finished. Mr. Arnold contributes an original Poem for each mouth. 

ART FOR YOUNG FOLKS. 

Square 8vo, illustrated, tinted edges, boards, 1.50; cloth, gilt 
edges, 2.25. 

Familiar instructions for young artists, how to get materials, etc., and the story of 
the visit of two New York boys to the \va#er-color exhibition, by Lizzie W. Champney. 
Also the biographies of twenty-four American artists, by S. G. W. Benjamin. All 
very fully and finely illustrated. An art education in itself. 


ARTHUR (Clara M.). 

CHERRY-BLOOMS OF 

full gilt, 1.25. 

“The Cherry- Blooms of Yeddo fall 
upon us in the form of a snow-shower of 
flowers and petals of genuine poetrv. A 
half dozen of the thirty or more poems cast 
a mystic glow upon native and missionary 
life in Japan. ‘The Baptism’ and 
‘ Easter ’ are exquisitely touching, and 
illustrative of Christ’s conquest over the 
pagan heart, and of the sad but silver- 
edged experience of the missionary who 
comes back to home-land bereft, but not 

ETCHINGS FROM TWO 

“ The two lands are America and 
Japan, much the larger part of the vol- 
ume being given to Japan. The sketches 
are descriptive and narrative, giving 
graphic views of Japan and the Japanese, 


YEDDO. Illustrated, i2mo, 1. 00; 


with Naomi’s hopeless and rebellious 
grief.” — Christian Intelligencer , New 
York. 

“ There is about them all a simplicity 
and naturalness, the fragrance of fern 
and flower, of meadow and woodland, 
combined with a delicate finish in rhyme 
and measure, which evinces the touch of 
the true interpreter of the hidden mys- 
teries in art and nature.” — Watchman, 
Boston. 

LANDS. i2mo, 1. 00. 

with notices of missionary work, such as 
read by the friends of missions, will feed 
the interest already felt in them.” — 
Watchman , Boston. 


ARTIST GALLERY SERIES. 

i8mo, parchment paper, each 1.00. ( 3 ) 

Seven little books not necessarily connected ; made to be looked at rather than read. 
Each book devoted to an artist ; with the briefest possible sketch of his life; with 
portiait and several examples of their most famous and representative paintings, all in 
photogravure. 

Millias. Alma Tadema. 

Rosa Bonheur. Bouguereau. 

Landseer. Millet. 

Sir Frederick Leighton. 
























































































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